great gladness to see him again. And when he had been unarmed and his
wounds stanched and bound, Sir Lancelot told him what had befallen him.
'And now I beseech you,' said Sir Lancelot, 'be of good heart, in
whatever great need we stand, for now I fear war must come of it all.
But what is the treason they would charge me with I know not; yet I
dread it meaneth much evil plotting against me and the peace of this
fair kingdom.'
'Sir,' said Sir Bors, 'your enemies and those that envy your great fame
have spread many evil reports about you. They say that you plot to slay
the king and to take Queen Gwenevere to wife, to reign over this
kingdom with you.'
With that Sir Lancelot was so astounded that for some moments he could
not speak. Then he said:
'By my confession unto Heaven, this is as foul a plot against me as
ever fiend could fashion. And it showeth how far they will go to pull
me down and dishonour me. And doth the king know of these evil
rumours?'
'I know not,' replied Sir Bors, 'but I doubt not that Sir Mordred will
not rest his horse till he hath found the king and poisoned his mind
against thee.'
'Had I known of this,' said Sir Lancelot, 'I would have brought the
queen away with me and put her in a safe place, for now I know that her
enemies and mine will not rest until she and I be slain.'
But Sir Bors counselled him not to attempt a rescue then, for day was
breaking, the town was awake, and the court would be full of the armed
retainers of the slain knights.
Then, while Sir Lancelot rested himself, Sir Bors went out to the
lodgings of such of his kinsmen as might not be gone with the king, and
he found that now all had returned to London with the king, that Sir
Mordred had met them on their way, and had told King Arthur of the
fight, and had, moreover, charged Sir Lancelot and the queen with
conspiring together to gain the crown.
Sad indeed was Sir Bors to hear this; but, going about the town, he got
together the kinsmen of Sir Lancelot and such of his friends as would
cast in their lot with him in so weighty and terrible a thing as civil
war. By seven of the clock he had got together good and valiant knights
to the number of fourscore, all horsed and armed.
Then he told them to betake themselves to a privy place in a wood
beyond the city walls to the north, and there in a little while came
Sir Lancelot with Sir Bors, and held counsel with them. He told them
all that had befallen him in the fight with the twelve knights, and
they in their turn related how Sir Mordred had met them and had told
his evil tales against the queen and Lancelot, and how for long the
king was too wroth and too sad to listen. But afterwards, when Sir
Mordred told how Sir Pinel, who had spoken of these things, had been
poisoned at the feast given by the queen, King Arthur had wept, and
then was very stern and quiet and said no word more.
'Now, my lords,' said Sir Lancelot, when they had done speaking, 'ye
know well how evil are these plots, how baseless are these foul rumours
against me. But now they have been launched against me, and I have
slain men on account of them, I fear we shall be hard put to it to get
peace again. Those men were set on to betray me; and I doubt not mine
enemies will have the queen burnt, to revenge themselves upon her and
upon me. Therefore, fair lords, what counsel do ye give?'
'Sir,' said Sir Bors, when they had spoken together a little, 'we think
there is but one thing to be done first: that ye knightly rescue the
queen, if your enemies force the king to put her to the stake. For if
she be burnt, then it would be to your shame, seeing that you vowed
yourself her true knight when she came, a young fair bride, to our
king, twenty years agone. And in whatsoever way ye would rescue her, ye
may count upon us to our last breath.'
With a great shout all the other knights raised their right hands in
the air and cried: 'Yea! yea!'
Then, by the advice of Sir Lancelot, they kept hidden in the little
wood, while one went into the city to learn what was being done, and in
what manner the queen was to be treated.
Meanwhile, in the hall of the palace of King Arthur, men sat or stood
with anxious looks, glancing in silence at the king, as he walked up
and down apart, with a stern look on his face.
Then Sir Mador strode forward and said:
'Lord, I do require you to perform your promise to me, to wit, that the
queen be brought to the stake, unless one be found to do combat on her
behalf.'
'What I have promised I will fulfil,' said the king; and men sorrowed
to see how heavy of anguish were his looks, and full of sorrow his
words.
'Lord king,' said Sir Mordred, 'we have shamefully suffered much wrong
at the hands of Sir Lancelot. I appeal to thee that he be seized, so
that the kin of those whom he slew this last night may have vengeance
upon him.'
Then came Sir Gawaine forward quickly, and his face was dark with anger
and his words hot.
'Lord,' he cried, 'listen not to such tales, for I doubt not it was
only by evil plots that Sir Lancelot was forced to slay those whom he
slew. For I trust not Sir Mordred.'
'So God us help,' said Sir Gareth and Sir Gaheris, 'we too will not be
known to be of the same mind as our brother Sir Mordred.'
'Then will I do as I deem it best, to gain what I deem right,' replied
Sir Mordred.
'I believe that thou wilt do it in thine own hidden ways,' said Sir
Gawaine, and looked fiercely at his brother, 'for in all unhappiness
and evil thou art to be found, if men but seek in the darkest place and
look for the most secret foe.'
'I appeal to you, lord,' said Sir Mordred to the king, 'to proclaim Sir
Lancelot a false traitor to you and to your realm.'
'And I,' said Sir Gawaine, 'will bid ye remember, lord king, that if ye
will make war between us and Sir Lancelot, there will be many kings and
great lords hold with him. And I would ask you, how many times hath Sir
Lancelot done noble deeds on our behalf and proved himself the best
knight of us all? Did he not rescue twenty of us from the dungeons of
Sir Turquine? Hath he not avenged shame upon the king and the queen,
and the fame of the Round Table many a time? Methinketh, my uncle, that
such kind deeds should be well remembered.'
'Think ye,' said the king, 'that I am not loath to begin so evil and
terrible a thing as civil war? Man, it rendeth my heart to think it.
And I tell thee, Sir Mordred, I will not begin it, except I have proofs
of what ye charge upon Sir Lancelot. And as he is the best knight of ye
all, and the most valiant, I will not judge him before I hear him. If I
know him well, he will come hither and challenge the knight to combat
that doth bring these charges against him, and in that will I trust,
for God shall surely defend the right. Therefore, let a messenger be
sent to Sir Lancelot requiring him, by his knighthood, to appear before
me here, and make answer to the charges thou hast against him.'
This was not as Sir Mordred desired; for he did not doubt that if Sir
Lancelot came he would have little trouble to persuade the king that he
was innocent. When the messenger was gone, therefore, Sir Mordred sent
a servant after him, who slew him in a wood and hid his body under a
bush.
Meanwhile, Sir Mordred counselled Sir Mador to repeat his demand that
the king should cause the queen to be led to the stake, since no knight
had come forward and offered to fight for her.
For a time the king put him off, hoping that as soon as Sir Lancelot
received his commands he would come instantly. Very anxiously did the
king look to the door, hoping to see the tall form of his best knight
come towering through the hall.
Instead thereof came the crafty servant of Sir Mordred, throwing
himself at the feet of the king.
'Gracious lord,' cried he, panting as if from swift running, 'I have
even now come from the place where Sir Lancelot and his friends are
hiding. I am one of their servants, but I hate their treason against
ye, and therefore I am come to tell you of this greatest treason of
all. They have slain your messenger, my lord, him that came requiring
Sir Lancelot to appear before thee. Sir Lancelot ran upon him when he
gave his message and slew him, saying, "Thus do I answer the saucy
words of him who shall not much longer be king."'
The king looked at the face of the messenger long and sadly. The pain
which the king suffered would have softened any ordinary heart; but the
murderer was a hard and callous wretch, and his brazen eyes outlooked
the king.
'Then is Sir Lancelot changed indeed,' said the king, and walked away
with bowed head and moist eyes.
Sir Mador pushed forward again, repeating his demand.
'Have it as ye will,' said the king heavily, and went quickly into his
private chamber.
'Alas!' said Sir Gawaine and Sir Gareth, 'now is the whole realm
falling to ruin, and the noble fellowship of the Round Table shall be
scattered in civil war.'
Soon a page came to Sir Gawaine, telling him that the king would speak
to him.
'Gawaine,' said the king, when the knight went to him, 'I have been too
easy with this knight, Sir Lancelot. He hath slain eleven knights of
the Round Table and my messenger. The pride and ambition of that man
shall have a check. His great fame for valiant deeds hath made him mad,
until it would seem that nothing but this realm will content him. Now,
therefore, as justice demands, and Sir Mador requires, do ye lead the
queen to the fire. She shall have the law as is right. Afterwards we
will seize Sir Lancelot; and know ye, he shall have a hard and shameful
death.'
'Heaven forbid,' said Sir Gawaine, 'that ever I should see either of
these things. For I will believe not these reports of Sir Lancelot.'
'How now?' said the king, 'truly ye have little cause to love him. This
night last past he slew Sir Agravaine, your brother, and several of
your kindred with him; and also, Sir Gawaine, remember how he slew but
lately two sons of yours in battle against the oppressing lords of the
borders.'
'My lord,' said Sir Gawaine, 'I know these things, and for their deaths
I have grieved, but I warned them all, and as they sought their deaths
wilfully I will not avenge them, nor think worse of Sir Lancelot.'
'Nevertheless,' said the king, 'I pray you will make ready with your
brothers, Sir Gaheris and Sir Gareth, to take the queen to the fire,
there to have her judgment and receive her death.'
'Nay, most noble lord,' replied the knight sadly, 'that will I never
do. I will never stand by to see so noble a queen meet so shameful a
death.'
'Then,' said the king sadly, 'suffer your brothers, Sir Gareth and Sir
Gaheris, to be there.'
'They are younger than I,' replied Sir Gawaine, 'and they may not say
you nay.'
The king commanded the two brothers of Sir Gawaine to come to him, and
told them what he desired of them.
'Sir,' said Sir Gareth, 'it is in your power to command us to lead the
queen to her shameful end; but wit you well it is sore against our
will. We will go as ye bid, but it shall be in peaceable guise, for we
tell you straightway, we will not oppose a rescue, should any so
desire.'
'Alas!' said Sir Gawaine, and wept, 'that ever I should live to see
this woful day.'
Then the two knights went to the queen and sorrowfully bade her prepare
for her death. Very pale was the queen, but very quiet, for now that
this was come which she had dreaded night and day, she would bear
herself proudly like a queen, innocent as she knew she was of any
crime.
Her ladies dressed her in her meanest garments; a priest, her
confessor, was brought to her, and she was shriven of her sins. Then
arose a weeping and a wailing and a wringing of hands among the lords
and ladies.
Between the knights and the men-at-arms she was led through the streets
to the lists beyond the wall. Lamentation, cries of horror, and the
shrieks and sighs of women arose from the multitude which lined each
side of the narrow streets. Many were the prayers that rose from white
lips, praying God to send a miracle to rescue so sweet a lady from so
dreadful a doom.
The city apprentices, with stout sticks in their hands, stood in bands,
and in their stout young hearts was a great rage. It was in their minds
to dash upon the guard of armoured knights, to attempt a rescue, but
they knew how vain their sticks would be against the keen blades of
swords.
So stricken with horror were all those that looked on that they noticed
not how, when the queen and her guard issued from the gates of the
palace, a man in the coarse dress of a peasant, who was standing in the
crowd, strode swiftly away down a narrow lane. There he vaulted, with
an unpeasant-like deftness, upon a good steed that stood in the charge
of a young lad; and striking spurs in the horse's flanks, he dashed
away madly along the streets and through the northern gate into the
fields.
Amidst the sorrowing people, with women crying and men muttering and
looking darkly at the knights about her, the queen was led to the
tilting-ground beyond the northern wall, and in the midst thereof was a
stake. To this she was fastened with a rope, and faggots of wood were
piled about her feet up to her knees. Near her stood the priest of her
household, trying to cheer her with comforting words; but the queen,
pale and without tears, seemed to be dazed and as if she did not hear
him.
A hundred knights ranged themselves behind the queen, some on
horseback, but the most on foot. Many of them had followed the example
of Sir Gaheris and Sir Gareth and stood without arms; but Sir Mador was
on his horse, fully armed, and prepared for combat. Others of his
kindred rode beside him.
Then Sir Gaheris called upon the herald to proclaim what the king had
commanded.
'In the name of the king,' cried the herald, 'the queen hath been found
guilty of the death of a knight by treason and poison, and his kinsmen
have demanded due judgment upon her. But if any knight shall take upon
himself to do battle for her, let him appear instantly. If none do
appear, then shall she suffer the death by burning as the law doth
appoint.'
The herald ceased; the people in the seats, craning this way and that,
looked eagerly up and down the lists to see if any knight came.
They saw Sir Mador, in the forefront of the troop of mounted knights,
glance about him; but no armed man moved forward to do battle for the
innocence of the queen. Then he looked to where she stood, pale and
still, and men saw him smile faintly, as if his cruel heart already
rejoiced to think that she would surely burn.
A great stillness was on the multitude of people. The eyes of all the
citizens of London were bent upon that long wide space of sand within
the lists; many, blurred by tears, could not bear to look at the white
figure in the midst of the faggots.
Men and women held their breath. They saw Sir Mador look towards Sir
Gaheris, as if to ask him why he delayed giving the signal for the
executioner to go forward to do his duty.
Sir Gaheris stood looking down the lists towards the great entrance.
His brother, Sir Gareth, was beside him, and in the hearts of both were
prayers which asked that something might happen to prevent them doing
this dreadful deed upon their fair queen.
'I do call upon you, Sir Gaheris, to fulfil the law!'
Sir Mador's harsh voice rang out in the silence, startling all. With
the sound, Sir Gaheris threw up his hands in a gesture of despair. He
turned to the executioner, who stood beside a cauldron of fire, and
pointed to the queen.
Horror held the great multitude in silence, and all eyes watched the
man put his torch in the fire, and then carry it blazing towards the
faggots.
Suddenly men heard a strange throbbing sound, as if from a distance;
then quickly it changed into the fierce beat of horses' hoofs; and
before many could realise what it meant, through the great gate at the
end of the lists dashed knights in armour, on horses whose foam-flecked
trappings showed at what a speed they had come.
At the head of them rode a great knight; and as men caught the device
upon his shield a great roar of gladness burst from the throats of the
people, while women sobbed for joy.
'Sir Lancelot! Sir Lancelot to the rescue!' was the cry.
As the knights entered, Sir Mador's quick commands sounded, and the
knights about him ran forward and surrounded the queen. They had barely
reached the place when, with a great crashing sound, the party of Sir
Lancelot was upon them. Many of Sir Mador's people were at once thrown
headlong to the ground by the force of the shock; but the others fought
fiercely.
This way and that the battle swayed; Sir Mador trying to thrust the
others from the fire, and Sir Lancelot's kinsmen striving to reach the
queen. All was in confusion; the knights on foot were mingled with
those on horseback, and many were cut down who did not bear arms.
Full of a mad wrath was Sir Lancelot, as he raged among the knights
that stood about the faggots; nor could any withstand him. So blind was
he in his fury that he knew not whom he slew, except that they were men
who stood between him and the queen.
So, by great mischance, at this rushing and hurtling, he slew two
knights and knew not that they were unarmed, and that they were of
those he loved most. One was Sir Gareth, whom he had himself knighted,
and the other was Sir Gaheris. In very truth Sir Lancelot knew them
not; and afterwards they were found dead where the corpses lay
thickest.
Short but very fierce was that battle, for none could long withstand
the fury of Sir Lancelot and his kinsmen. Many were slain on both
sides; Sir Mador had his head sheared from his shoulders by a stroke of
Sir Lancelot's sword, and the remnant of his party fled.
Then Sir Lancelot rode to the queen, cut her bonds, and lifted her upon
his horse full tenderly. Her eyes streamed with tears as she returned
thanks to God for her deliverance, and hardly could she tell her
gratitude to Sir Lancelot.
Thus, with the continued praises of the people in his ears, Sir
Lancelot fared forth amidst his kinsmen, and taking the road northwards
he rode with the queen to his own castle of Joyous Gard.
'For,' said he, 'I will keep the queen in safety until I know that the
king is assured of our innocence of any treason against him. But I
doubt our enemies have poisoned his mind, for never else would he have
suffered her to go to the stake.'
But therein was Sir Lancelot in great error, as in much grief and
remorse he came later to see; for if instantly he had taken the queen
to the king, and had dared his enemies to prove his treason and the
queen's, they would have been instantly discountenanced, and King
Arthur would have known and loved him as he had ever done, for a true
knight and a peerless one.
Nevertheless, Sir Lancelot would ever have had the hatred of Sir
Gawaine, which was caused by his slaying, though unwittingly, the two
good knights, Sir Gaheris and Sir Gareth; whereof came great bale and
sorrow.
XII
OF SIR GAWAINE'S HATRED, AND THE WAR WITH SIR LANCELOT
King Arthur, in the hall of his palace in London, walked quickly up and
down, thinking in great grief of the death of his queen. A group of
pages stood quietly in the shadow by the door, and two or three knights
gazed silently at the moody king.
Suddenly there came the sound of running footsteps; a man dashed into
the hall, and threw himself at the feet of the king. It was a squire of
Sir Mordred's, and he craved leave to speak. 'Say on,' said the king.
'My lord,' said the man, 'Sir Lancelot hath rescued the queen from the
fire and hath slain some thirty of your knights, and he and his kin
have taken the queen among them away to some hiding-place.'
King Arthur stood for a little while dumb for pure sorrow; then,
turning away, he wrung his hands and cried with a voice whose sadness
pierced every heart:
'Alas, that ever I bare a crown, for now is the fairest fellowship of
knights that ever the world held, scattered and broken.'
'Further, my lord,' went on the man, as others came into the hall, 'Sir
Lancelot hath slain the brethren of Sir Gawaine, and they are Sir
Gaheris and Sir Gareth.'
The king looked from the man to the knights that now surrounded him, as
if that which he heard was past all belief.
'Is this truth?' he asked them, and all were moved at the sorrow on
his face and in his voice.
'Yea, lord,' said they.
'Then, fair fellows,' he said, very heavily, 'I charge you that no man
tell Sir Gawaine of the death of his two brothers; for I am sure that
when he heareth that his loved younger brother, Sir Gareth, is slain,
he will nigh go out of his mind for sorrow and anger.'
The king strode up and down the chamber, wringing his hands in the
grief he could not utter.
'Why, oh why, did he slay them?' he cried out at length. 'He himself
knighted Sir Gareth when he went to fight the oppressor of the Lady
Lyones, and Sir Gareth loved him above all others.'
'That is truth,' said some of the knights, and could not keep from
tears to see the king's grief, 'but they were slain in the hurtling
together of the knights, as Sir Lancelot dashed in the thick of the
press. He wist not whom he smote, so blind was his rage to get to the
queen at the stake.'
'Alas! alas!' said the king. 'The death of them will cause the
greatest woful war that ever was in this fair realm. I see ruin before
us all--rent and ruined shall we be, and all peace for ever at an end.'
Though the king had forbidden any of his knights to tell Sir Gawaine of
the death of his two brothers, Sir Mordred called his squire aside, and
bade him go and let Sir Gawaine know all that had happened.
'Do you see to it,' he told the man, 'that thou dost inflame his mind
against Sir Lancelot.'
The knave went to Sir Gawaine, and found him walking on the terrace of
the palace overlooking the broad quiet Thames, where the small trading
ships sailed up and down the river on their ways to and from Gaul and
the ports of the Kentish coast.
'Sir,' said the squire, doffing his cap and bowing, 'great and woful
deeds have been toward this day. The queen hath been rescued by Sir
Lancelot and his kin, and some thirty knights were slain in the melee
about the stake.'
'Heaven defend my brethren,' said Sir Gawaine, 'for they went unarmed.
But as for Sir Lancelot, I guessed he would try a rescue, and I had
deemed him no man of knightly worship if he had not. But, tell me, how
are my brethren. Where be they?'
'Alas, sir,' said the man, 'they be slain.'
The grim face of Sir Gawaine went pale, and with an iron hand he seized
the shoulder of the squire and shook him in his rage.
'Have a care, thou limb of Mordred's, if thou speakest lies,' he said.
'I would not have them dead for all this realm and its riches. Where is
my young brother, Sir Gareth?'
'Sir, I tell ye truth,' said the man, 'for I know how heavy would be
your anger if I lied in this. Sir Gareth and Sir Gaheris are slain, and
all good knights are mourning them, and in especial the king our
master.'
Sir Gawaine took a step backwards and his face went pale and then it
darkened with rage.
'Tell me who slew them?' he thundered.
'Sir,' replied the man, 'Sir Lancelot slew them both.'
'False knave!' cried Sir Gawaine, 'I knew thou didst lie.'
He struck the man a great buffet on the head, so that he fell half
dazed to the ground.
'Ha! ha! thou lying talebearer!' laughed Sir Gawaine, half relieved of
his fears, yet still half doubtful. 'To tell me that Sir Lancelot slew
them! Why, man, knowest thou of whom thou pratest? Sir Lancelot to slay
my dear young brother Gareth! Why, man, Gareth loved Sir Lancelot as he
loved me--not more than he loved me, but near as much; and Sir Lancelot
was ever proud of him. 'Twas he that knighted my young brother Gareth,
brave and hearty, noble of mind and goodly of look! He would have stood
with Lancelot against the king himself, so greatly he loved him. And
thou--thou foul-mouth!--thou tellest me that Lancelot hath slain him!
Begone from my sight, thou split-tongue!'
'Nevertheless, Sir Gawaine,' said the man, rising, 'Sir Lancelot slew
them both in his rage. As he would--saving your presence--have slain
you had you stood between him and the queen at the stake.'
At these words, stubbornly spoken in spite of the furious looks of Sir
Gawaine, the knight realised that the man was speaking the truth.
His look was fixed on the face of the knave, and rage and grief filled
his eyes as he grasped the fact that his beloved brother was really
slain. Then the blood surged into his face, and he dashed away.
Men started to see the wild figure of Sir Gawaine rushing through the
passages, his eyes bloodshot, his face white. At length he dashed into
the presence of the king. Arthur stood sorrowing amidst his knights,
but Sir Gawaine rushed through them and faced the king.