struggle, they felt sure that Sir Lancelot, hot and enraged against his
enemy, would rip off the other's helm and strike his head off
instantly.
But, instead, Sir Lancelot stood for a moment looking at his prostrate
enemy. Then men gasped to see him thrust his sword into its scabbard
with a clang, turn on his heel and begin to walk away.
They saw the prone knight raise his head and look as if in surprise at
the retreating figure of Sir Lancelot.
'Why dost thou depart?' cried Sir Gawaine, rage in his mocking voice.
'Turn again, false knight, and slay me! If ye leave me thus, thou shalt
gain nothing from it, for when I am whole I will slay thee when I may.'
Men marvelled to hear a fallen foe use such shameful and hateful words,
but they marvelled much more when Sir Lancelot, turning, cried:
'I shall endure you, sir, if God give me grace; but wit you well. Sir
Gawaine, I will never smite you to death.'
Many that before had hated Sir Lancelot were moved by these noble
words, and by the sight of his mercy; and they deemed that there was
hardly another man in all Christendom that would have shown such
nobility, save Sir Galahad and Sir Perceval, and they were dead.
So Sir Lancelot went into the city, and Sir Gawaine was borne into King
Arthur's tent and his wounds were cleaned and salved. Thus he lay for
three weeks, hard of mood and bitter in his hatred, and longing eagerly
to get well, so he might try again to slay Sir Lancelot. Meanwhile he
prayed the king to attack Sir Lancelot's walls, to try to draw him
forth, or to take the city by treachery.
But the king would do naught. He was sick for sorrow because of the war
that was between him and Sir Lancelot, and by reason of the wounds of
his nephew Sir Gawaine.
'Alas,' was ever his reply, 'neither you nor I, my nephew, will win
worship at these walls. For we make war for no reason, with as noble a
knight as ever drew breath, and one more merciful and courteous than
any that ever graced the court of any Christian king.'
'Nevertheless,' replied Sir Gawaine, raging at the king's love for Sir
Lancelot, 'neither his mercy nor courtesy would avail against my good
sword, once I could sink it in his treacherous heart.'
As soon as Sir Gawaine might walk and ride, he armed him at all points
and mounted a great courser, and with a long wide spear in his hand he
went spurring to the great gate of the town.
'Where art thou, Lancelot?' he cried in a fierce voice. 'Come thou
forth, traitor knight and recreant! I am here to revenge me on thy evil
body for thy treacherous slaughter of my twain brothers.'
All this language Sir Lancelot heard, and leaning from the tower he
thus spake:
'Sir Gawaine, it sorrows me that ye will not cease your foul speaking.
I know your might, and all that ye may do, and well ye wot ye may do me
great hurt or death.'
'Come down, then,' cried Sir Gawaine, 'for what my heart craves is to
slay thee. Thou didst get the better of me the other day, and I come
this day to get my revenge. And wit thee well I will lay thee as low as
thou didst lay me.'
'I will not keep ye waiting long,' said Sir Lancelot, 'for as ye charge
me of treachery ye shall have your hands full of me erelong, however
the battle between us may end.'
Then happened it even as before. The knights encountered first with
spears, but Sir Gawaine's broke into a hundred pieces on the shield of
Sir Lancelot. Then, dismounting, the knights fought on foot with
swords.
Sir Gawaine put forth all his strength, hoping, with the magic power
which he possessed, to dash Sir Lancelot to his knees. But Sir Lancelot
was more wary than before, and under cover of his shield he husbanded
his strength until the hour of noon, when, as before, he felt that Sir
Gawaine's might had strangely ebbed away.
When that had come to pass, Sir Lancelot said:
'Now once more have I proved that ye fight not with a man's fair
strength, Sir Gawaine, but with some evil power. And full grievously
was I put to it to withstand many of thy sad blows. Now ye have done
your great deeds, and I will do mine.'
Then with one stroke, of so marvellous a force that men marvelled, Sir
Lancelot beat down Sir Gawaine's guard, and struck him a full heavy
blow on the side of the helm, beating it in so that the old wound burst
again.
Sir Gawaine fell to the ground, and for some moments lay still as if he
were dead or in a swoon; but he was only dazed, and soon recovering, he
raved and foamed as he lay there, cursing Sir Lancelot for a traitorous
coward and a base knight, and even, in his madness, thrusting towards
him with his sword.
'Wit thou well, base knight,' he cried, 'that I am not slain yet. Come
thou near and lie here with me, and we will fight this battle until we
die.'
'I will do no more than I have done, my lord,' said Sir Lancelot, 'and
when thou art able to stand I will meet thee again. But to smite a
wounded man that may not stand, I will not.'
Then Sir Lancelot withdrew to the town, while Sir Gawaine still raved
and abused him, and men marvelled both at the exceeding madness of the
hatred of Sir Gawaine and the great restraint and nobleness of
Lancelot. Many said that had Sir Gawaine said half as many shameful
things to one of them, they would have instantly rased his evil head
from his shoulders.
For a month Sir Gawaine lay sick, but was always eager to be up and
able again. And at length the leech said that in three days he should
ride, whereat Sir Gawaine was joyful.
'Again,' said he to King Arthur, who sat beside him, 'again shall I
have to do with that base fellow, and ill attend me if I do not end the
matter this time.'
'Ye had ended it long ago, or been ended,' said the king, 'except for
the nobleness of Sir Lancelot that forbore to slay you.'
'Ay, we all know your love of the pestilent fool, uncle,' said Sir
Gawaine, 'but we will stay here until we have made an end of him and
his kingdom, if it take us all our lives.'
Even as he spoke there came the clear call of a trumpet outside in the
camp, and Sir Bedevere came to the door of the king's tent, his grim
old face pale, his grizzled hair unkempt, and every sign of haste and
travel upon his dress.
The king started up. 'Sir Bedevere, ye bring evil tidings from
Britain,' he cried. 'Can it be that more ruin and wrong is to come than
that I suffer now? What is your news?'
'O my king, it is that Mordred your nephew hath rebelled,' said Sir
Bedevere, 'and has gathered much people about him, and hath sent many
letters to all the lords and knights your vassals, promising them
wealth and lands if they make him king. And Gwenevere your queen he
hath imprisoned, saying that he will wed her when ye are slain.'
'Mordred! Mordred!' cried the king, 'him that I thought was a quiet,
strong man--turned so base a traitor!'
'Ay, he was ever the traitor, though brother of mine,' cried Sir
Gawaine in a voice of rage. 'A man that speaks in whispers, haunts dark
corners, and ever sneers with his lips.'
'Hardly with my life have I escaped to tell you this,' went on Sir
Bedevere, 'for he placed men to watch me after I had scorned his evil
offers to myself. But now, my lord, quickly ye must betake yourself and
all your army from this fruitless and wrongful War against Sir
Lancelot, and hasten to beat down the poisonous viper whom ye have
nourished in your bosom.'
Ere the day was done the army of King Arthur had raised the siege of
Sir Lancelot's town and were quickly marching to the sea, there to take
their boats across to Britain to punish the usurper and traitor, Sir
Mordred.
A fair wind carried them across the sea, but long ere they reached the
shallows of the beach at Dover they saw the sunlight flashing from
thousands of headpieces of knights and men-at-arms, set to oppose the
landing of their rightful lord. The king was fiercely angry, and he
commanded the masters of the ships to launch their small boats, and
into these the knights swarmed and were rowed towards the shore.
But the rebels of Mordred also launched boats and great pinnaces filled
with knights, and when the boats of the opposite parties met, then
there was fierce fighting and much slaughter of many good knights and
barons and other brave men. Then King Arthur and his chief knights drew
forth their horses from the holds of the ships, and leaped with them
into the sea, and fiercely did they throw themselves upon Sir Mordred
and his knights, and there was grievous fighting on horseback in the
shallow water, which soon was dyed with the blood of the slain.
So stubborn were the king and his fighting men that the army of Mordred
was forced to retreat towards the land, and then, when the king and
Gawaine had trimmed their own ranks, order was given for one concerted
rush against the enemy. The other side showed little fight now, and
made no stand, but fled inland.
When the battle was over, King Arthur let bury his people that were
dead, so far as they could be discovered in the waves; and the wounded
he caused to be carried into the town of Dover to be cared for.
A squire came to the king as he stood giving orders as to these things.
'My lord king,' said the squire, 'Sir Gawaine lies sore wounded in a
boat, and we know not whether he be alive or dead.'
'Alas!' cried the king, and the knights about him were full of pity at
the sudden grief that came into his voice and his looks, 'is this true?
Then is all my joy of life at an end.'
The squire led him to the boat in which Sir Gawaine lay, who stirred as
the king approached, and feebly smiled.
'My uncle,' said Sir Gawaine, 'wit you well that now is my death-day
come, for I know I shall not last this bout. For I am smitten upon the
wound which Sir Lancelot gave me, and I feel that now I shall die.'
'Alas, my sister's son,' cried the king, taking Sir Gawaine in his arms
and kissing him, while the tears flowed down his cheeks, 'this is the
wofullest day of all my life. For if ye depart, Gawaine, how solitary
am I! Gawaine! Gawaine! in Sir Lancelot and in thee had I most my love
and my joy, and now shall I lose ye both, and all my earthly joy is
gone from me.'
'Alas,' said Sir Gawaine, 'sorrow's on me now that I have caused you
such grief, mine uncle. I see now that I have been mad with rage
against that noble knight, Sir Lancelot, who slew my dear brothers
unwittingly. And now I repent me sorely. I would that I could live to
repair the evil that I have done to you and to Sir Lancelot. But my
time is come. I shall not live till evening.'
They wept together, and the knights that stood about them also wept for
pure grief, to think how much sorrow and ruin was caused by the mad
rage of Sir Gawaine, which had pushed the good king on to make war
against his will.
'I am the causer of this rebellion by my traitor brother,' said Sir
Gawaine, 'and my name shall be cursed for it. Had I not wilfully driven
thee, thou wouldst have accorded with Sir Lancelot, and he and his
brave kinsmen would have held your cankered enemies in subjection, or
else cut them utterly away. Lift me up, my lord, and let me have a
scribe, for I will send a letter to Sir Lancelot ere I die.'
Then Sir Gawaine was set up by the king, and a priest was brought, who
wrote at the dying man's dictation. And the purport of the letter was
in this wise:
'Unto Sir Lancelot, flower of all noble knights that ever I heard of or
saw, and once my dear friend, now do I, Sir Gawaine, King Lot's son of
Orkney and the Lothians, and sister's son to King Arthur, send thee
greeting and let thee know by these writings that I am this day done to
death, having been wounded at the landing against rebellious traitors,
and struck upon the wound which thou didst give me twice, before thy
city. Whereby I have got my death. But I will have thee to wit that I
sought my death of thee, and got that wound deservedly of thee, who
could have slain me twice, but for thy high nobility and great
courtesy. I, Gawaine, beseech of thee forgiveness for my madness, and
crave that thou wilt remember the dear friendly days we have had
together in times long past, and for all the love that was between us.
Come thou over the sea, and with thy knights do thou press to the help
of Arthur, our noble lord, who is beset by a traitorous villain, my
brother Mordred, who hath dared to rebel against his rightful lord, and
hath crowned himself king. Do thou hasten, good Sir Lancelot, when thou
shalt receive this letter, and follow the king. But ere thou goest from
this seashore do thou come to my tomb, and pray some prayer more or
less for my sinful soul, that in its madness did evilly entreat thee.'
Then was Sir Gawaine shriven, and in a little while he swooned, while
all stood uncovered round about him. When the rays of the afternoon sun
cast long shadows of the knights and fighting men who were hurrying up
and down the shore making ready to depart, Sir Gawaine awoke from his
swoon and looked up. For a moment he did not recognise King Arthur;
then he smiled at him very sweetly and said in a low voice:
'Kiss me--and forgive me!'
The king knelt down and kissed the pallid face of Sir Gawaine, and for
very sorrow he felt that the heart in his breast was nigh to bursting.
So in a little while, with the beat of the surf and the cry of the
seagulls upon his ears, the light of the sun in his eyes, and the free
air of heaven all about him, Sir Gawaine died. And his death was as he
had ever craved it to be, under the open sky, after battle, where he
had given good strokes and received them.
Now the letter which Sir Gawaine had written was given unto a young
squire of Sir Gawaine's, by name Tewder, and he was commanded to depart
forthwith back to Brittany, and deliver it into the hands of Sir
Lancelot. But, among the knights that had stood about the dying Sir
Gawaine, was a traitor, who was in the service of Sir Mordred the
rebel, and he knew that if Sir Lancelot should receive that letter, and
come to Britain with all his brave kin and their host, Sir Mordred
would have much ado to conquer King Arthur.
Therefore the traitor knight, whose name was Sir Fergus, did accost
Tewder the squire, and with fair seeming told him that he also was
bidden to go back to Brittany, to bring back certain jewels which the
king in his hasty departure had left in his lodging at the town of Dol.
Tewder, unsuspecting of all evil, went aboard a boat with Sir Fergus,
and together they bargained with the master to take them across when
the tide should rise again at dark. Together they crossed the sea that
night and took the road towards Sir Lancelot's town; and in a dark wood
Sir Fergus set upon the squire, who fought bravely, but was slain at
last, and the letter of Sir Gawaine was taken by the traitor.
Then, returning to the seashore, the wretch went aboard another boat,
and chaffered with the merchant to take him across the sea to the town
of Llongporth, whence he thought to get quickly to Mordred, to receive
from him the reward of his treachery and murder. But at night, as they
sailed over the dark sea, a fifty-oared longship, filled with Saxon
pirates, crept upon them; the pagans poured over the sides, slew men
almost in their sleep, and flung their bodies overboard. And though
Fergus fought well, his head was almost struck from his body by a great
sheering axe-blow. When the pirates had taken all the goods they
desired from the merchant vessel, they stove a hole in its side, and it
sank to the bottom of the sea. So that no man ever again saw the letter
which was meant for Sir Lancelot.
For some weeks Sir Lancelot lay quiet, knowing naught of the death of
Sir Gawaine or of the letter desiring him to go to the help of King
Arthur. Many rumours came to him, through the ship-folk, of the wicked
rebellion of Sir Mordred, and though Sir Lancelot longed to go across
to Britain and fight for King Arthur, his kinsmen would not consent,
but said it would be unseemly, unless the king craved his aid, and sued
for pardon for making war against Sir Lancelot in his own country.
Thus the precious weeks went by, and much ill fortune happened in
Britain, that had ended otherwise if Sir Lancelot had been by the king.
Three days after the battle upon the shore, the king's host came up
with the host of Sir Mordred on Barham down. Many folks had joined the
rebels' side, because they hated the king for making war upon Sir
Lancelot, and the king was sorely hurt in his mind to see a banner
borne by one part of the usurper's army, on which was the device of Sir
Lancelot's.
This the crafty Sir Mordred had commanded to be done, knowing that it
would damp the spirits of King Arthur and his men.
'Verily,' said King Arthur, 'my evil deeds have sprung up as armed men
against me. I fought unjustly with Sir Lancelot, and here are some that
loved him arrayed against me for that wicked war.'
'If ye would send for Sir Lancelot,' said Sir Owen of the Fountain, who
stood by him, 'ye would learn, I verily believe, that Sir Lancelot
loves and worships you as of old, and hath no mind to fight on the side
of this sly fox, Mordred. Send for Sir Lancelot, lord.'
'Nay, I will not--I may not,' said the king. 'If he cometh by the words
which Sir Gawaine wrote to him, I shall know that he loves me and
forgives me; but if he cometh not, I shall know he hates me, and I
shall merit his ill-favour. He owes naught to me since I used him so
evilly, and therefore I may not ask his aid.'
All day the battle raged upon the great green down, and many were the
fierce fights which took place upon the top thereof, where, behind
great earthworks freshly timbered, the main host of Sir Mordred stood,
the banner of the great red dragon in their midst.
But at the last, so fast and fierce did the blows of King Arthur's men
fall, and so stubbornly did they press on, that Sir Mordred's host gave
way. Pouring forth by the upper gate, they ran pell-mell northwards,
and the knights and fighting men of Arthur kept up with them for many
miles, and there was a running fight and much wounding and slaying all
through the fresh green countryside, where the hedges were laden with
May-blossoms, and in the sky the larks were trilling.
And that day many a wounded man crawled groaning into the thickets to
die, many a chalky cart-rut ran red with blood, and many a white face,
with wide-open, sightless eyes, stared up at the blue sky, where the
fleecy clouds sailed in the gentle wind.
For three weeks after this battle both sides rested, and like great
wrestlers gathered all their strength for one great struggle. Knights
and riders were sent by both sides into all parts, with letters to
lords and knights, charging them to take their sides in the war. Many
people from about London came to the banner of Mordred, and the parts
now called Kent, Sussex and Surrey, Essex and Suffolk held wholly with
him; but those in the west, as Wales, Devon, Cornwall and the middle
parts, thronged to the banner of the king.
Few came from the north, for there the pagan pirates stalked with fire
and sword through and through the land, and the British lords and
chiefs that were alive had little power to stay them now. King Uriens
was dead, slain by the dagger of a traitor, and so were two other great
chieftains; so that men south of Trent sorrowfully shook their heads
and said that now the north was no longer the land of the British folk,
but was given over to the savage heathen hordes.
Then, to meet the many that flocked together in his favour, King Arthur
drew him with his host westward beyond Sarum. There on the wide downs
beside the great standing-stones of the Old Princes, which men now call
Stonehenge, a great multitude of chiefs and knights and yeomen came to
his banner.
But Sir Mordred avoided a battle, and, instead, kept aloof with his
army, and began to burn and harry the country which was on the side of
Arthur. He took Calleva and Cunetio, and put the people to the sword,
and took much gear from those wealthy cities; then he stole through the
great forest by night and came to Palladun, which was a rich town
builded upon the top of a great hill. He thought to take this unawares,
but it was well watched and well armed, and he strove to break into it
and was kept about it for some days.
That delay was used well by King Arthur, for he made great haste to
pass through the wild country, filled with wide marshes and thick woods
as it was, which separated him from his enemy. Then Mordred, hearing
through the spies of the king's approach, got his host away and thought
to pass into the lands of Devon, which were those of King Dewer, son of
the dead Geraint, and held firmly for Arthur.
But in the wild waste-land beside the Endless Waters, King Arthur
caught up with him, and barred his further way. And the king remembered
that this was that same land, full of gaunt standing-stones and haunted
by trolls and witches, where Merlin had once led him, and where he had
gained the sword Excalibur.
It was late in the day when the two armies faced each other, and both
prepared to pass the night upon the field. Bitter was the wind that
evening, and the skies were dun and leaden of hue, as if spring had
been overcome by winter; and to shelter the king a tent had been put up
in a little dark wood of stunted firs, called the Wood of Drood. Just
in the deep dark before the dawn, when the blood in men's veins was
coldest, and the life in their hearts was weakest, a dreadful cry
wailed out through the dark wood, and there came the sound as of
leathery wings flapping heavily to and fro above where the king lay
sleeping. Men started up about their ashen fires, their faces blanching
at the terror that cried in the dark, and they heard the wailing twice
repeated, while none dared try to see the thing that wailed.
Then, while their blood chilled and their breath stayed, they heard the
heavy flapping pass over their heads and die away towards the camp of
Mordred; and there in the distance did the three cries sound again.
Men's hearts sickened as they turned and crept the nearer to each
other, but few dared to utter the words upon their lips.
Two knights slept in the tent with king, Sir Kay and Sir Owen; and they
lay in the dark, trembling at the cries of terrible import. When they
passed, the knights would not move, fearing to be the first to speak.
'My Lords,' came the quiet voice of King Arthur out of the dark, 'that
was the voice of the Hag of Warning. Men say it hath foretold the
deaths of many of my house, but I know not. Yet will I take the issue
as God shall give it me, trusting in His mercy and the blood of His Son
Jesus, and Him crucified.'
'Amen,' said the two knights, and said no more.
When, in a little while, the sun rose, flashing his warm rays into the
fearful eyes that greeted him, men's terror quickly vanished; and when
fires were lit and oaten cakes were browning on the irons, or collops
sputtered on their skewers, tongues were loosened and faces began to
smile. But few spoke of the cries which they had heard, for all loved
their king, and hoped that somehow they had dreamed an evil dream, or
had but heard the cries of some foul night-bird.
Breakfast being ended, the captains and knights began to trim their men
in army array, and talk was eager of the coming battle. Then were seen,
coming from Sir Mordred's camp, two bishops; and these were taken at
their desire to Arthur, where he stood surrounded by his knights and
chieftains.
'Lord,' said one of the bishops, he that was head of the great choir or
monastery of Amesbury, 'cannot we make accord between you and your
nephew? Sad it is to see so many great and valiant warriors ranged
against each other. Many are sisters' sons, and all are of one speech,
one kindred. If this unnatural war doth continue, how much sorrow there
will be, how many noble hearts be stilled in death or broken in grief
for him that shall never return! How many puissant bodies, now quick
and passionate and handsome, will be meat for snarling wolves and
carrion for foul birds!'
'What says my rebellious nephew?' asked the king sternly.
'My lord,' said the other bishop, a man of soft and silky speech, and
he was chief of the choir of Clovesho, 'he asks but little, and if ye
are willing to make treaty, he also is willing. Grant him but the
earldom of Kent and the Andred, with a seat at London, during your
days, and do thou appoint him king after your days. For now that Sir
Gawaine, Sir Gaheris and Sir Gareth are slain, he is the only sister's
son you have. If ye grant these things he will be your liege, faithful
in all things, and a strong arm against your enemies.'