THE DAYS OF CHIVALRY.
We have no inclination to deny that life is more safe and easy in these
days than it was in the Middle Ages, but it certainly is less picturesque,
and adventurous, and joyous. This country then presented the features of
interest which those among us who have wealth and leisure now travel to
foreign lands to find. There were vast tracts of primeval forest, and wild
unenclosed moors and commons, and marshes and meres. The towns were
surrounded by walls and towers, and the narrow streets of picturesque,
gabled, timber houses were divided by wide spaces of garden and grove,
above which rose numerous steeples of churches full of artistic wealth.
The villages consisted of a group of cottages scattered round a wide
green, with a village cross in the middle, and a maypole beside it. And
there were stately monasteries in the rich valleys; and castles crowned
the hills; and moated manor-houses lay buried in their woods; and
hermitages stood by the dangerous fords. The high roads were little more
than green lanes with a narrow beaten track in the middle, poached into
deep mud in winter; and the by-roads were bridle-paths winding from
village to village; and the costumes of the people were picturesque in
fashion, bright in colour, and characteristic. The gentleman pranced along
in silks and velvets, in plumed hat, and enamelled belt, and gold-hilted
sword and spurs, with a troop of armed servants behind him; the abbot, in
the robe of his order, with a couple of chaplains, all on ambling
palfreys; the friar paced along in serge frock and sandals; the minstrel,
in gay coat, sang snatches of lays as he wandered along from hall to
castle, with a lad at his back carrying his harp or gittern; the traders
went from fair to fair, taking their goods on strings of pack horses; a
pilgrim, passed now and then, with staff and scrip and cloak; and, now and
then, a knight-errant in full armour rode by on his war-horse, with a
squire carrying his helm and spear. It was a wild land, and the people
were rude, and the times lawless; but every mile furnished pictures for
the artist, and every day offered the chance of adventures. The reader
must picture to himself the aspect of the country and the manners of the
times, before he can appreciate the spirit of knight-errantry, to which it
is necessary that we should devote one of these chapters on the Knights of
the Middle Ages.
The knight-errant was usually some young knight who had been lately
dubbed, and who, full of courage and tired of the monotony of his father's
manor-house, set out in search of adventures. We could envy him as, on
some bright spring morning, he rode across the sounding drawbridge,
followed by a squire in the person of some young forester as full of
animal spirits and reckless courage as himself; or, perhaps, by some
steady old warrior practised in the last French war, whom his father had
chosen to take care of him. We sigh for our own lost youth as we think of
him, with all the world before him--the mediæval world, with all its
possibilities of wild adventure and romantic fortune; with caitiff knights
to overthrow at spear-point, and distressed damsels to succour; and
princesses to win as the prize of some great tournament; and rank and fame
to gain by prowess and daring, under the eye of kings, in some great
stricken field.
The old romances enable us to follow such an errant knight through all his
travels and adventures; and the illuminations leave hardly a point in the
history unillustrated by their quaint but naïve and charming pictures.
Tennyson has taken some of the episodes out of these old romances, and
filled up the artless but suggestive stories with the rich detail and
artistic finish which adapt them to our modern taste, and has made them
the favourite subjects of modern poetry. But he has left a hundred others
behind; stories as beautiful, with words and sentences here and there full
of poetry, destined to supply material for future poems and new subjects
for our painters.
It is our business to quote from these romances some of the scenes which
will illustrate our subject, and to introduce some of the illuminations
that will present them to the eye. In selecting the literary sketches, we
shall use almost exclusively the translation which Sir Thomas Mallory
made, and Caxton printed, of the cycle of Prince Arthur romances, because
it comprises a sufficient number for our purpose, and because the
language, while perfectly intelligible and in the best and most vigorous
English, has enough of antique style to give the charm which would be
wanting if we were to translate the older romances into modern
phraseology. In the same way we shall content ourselves with selecting
pictorial illustrations chiefly from MSS. of the fourteenth century, the
date at which many of these romances were brought into the form in which
they have descended to us.
[Illustration: _A Squire._]
A knight was known to be a knight-errant by his riding through the
peaceful country in full armour, with a single squire at his back, as
surely as a man is now recognised as a fox-hunter who is seen riding
easily along the strip of green sward by the roadside in a pink coat and
velvet cap. "Fair knight," says Sir Tristram, to one whom he had found
sitting by a fountain, "ye seem for to be a knight-errant by your arms and
your harness, therefore dress ye to just with one of us:" for this was of
course inevitable when knights-errant met; the whole passage is worth
transcribing:--"Sir Tristram and Sir Kay rode within the forest a mile or
more. And at the last Sir Tristram saw before him a likely knight and a
well-made man, all armed, sitting by a clear fountain, and a mighty horse
near unto him tied to a great oak, and a man [his squire] riding by him,
leading an horse that was laden with spears. Then Sir Tristram rode near
him, and said, 'Fair knight, why sit ye so drooping, for ye seem to be an
errant knight by your arms and harness, and therefore dress ye to just
with one of us or with both.' Therewith that knight made no words, but
took his shield and buckled it about his neck, and lightly he took his
horse and leaped upon him, and then he took a great spear of his squire,
and departed his way a furlong."
And so we read in another place:--"Sir Dinadan spake on high and said,
'Sir Knight, make thee ready to just with me, for it is the custom of all
arrant knights one for to just with another.' 'Sir,' said Sir Epinogris,
'is that the rule of your arrant knights, for to make a knight to just
whether he will or not?' 'As for that, make thee ready, for here is for
me.' And therewith they spurred their horses, and met together so hard
that Sir Epinogris smote down Sir Dinadan"--and so taught him the truth of
the adage "that it is wise to let sleeping dogs lie."
But they did not merely take the chance of meeting one another as they
journeyed. A knight in quest of adventures would sometimes station himself
at a ford or bridge, and mount guard all day long, and let no
knight-errant pass until he had jousted with him. Thus we read "then they
rode forth all together, King Mark, Sir Lamorake, and Sir Dinadan, till
that they came unto a bridge, and at the end of that bridge stood a fair
tower. Then saw they a knight on horseback, well armed, brandishing a
spear, crying and proffering himself to just." And again, "When King Mark
and Sir Dinadan had ridden about four miles, they came unto a bridge,
whereas hoved a knight on horseback, and ready to just. 'So,' said Sir
Dinadan unto King Mark, 'yonder hoveth a knight that will just, for there
shall none pass this bridge but he must just with that knight.'"
And again: "They rode through the forest, and at the last they were ware
of two pavilions by a priory with two shields, and the one shield was
renewed with white and the other shield was red. 'Thou shalt not pass this
way,' said the dwarf, 'but first thou must just with yonder knights that
abide in yonder pavilions that thou seest.' Then was Sir Tor ware where
two pavilions were, and great spears stood out, and two shields hung on
two trees by the pavilions." In the same way a knight would take up his
abode for a few days at a wayside cross where four ways met, in order to
meet adventures from east, west, north, and south. Notice of adventures
was sometimes affixed upon such a cross, as we read in "Prince Arthur":
"And so Sir Galahad and he rode forth all that week ere they found any
adventure. And then upon a Sunday, in the morning, as they were departed
from an abbey, they came unto a cross which departed two ways. And on that
cross were letters written which said thus: _Now ye knights-errant that
goeth forth for to seek adventures, see here two ways_," &c.
Wherever they went, they made diligent inquiry for adventures. Thus "Sir
Launcelot departed, and by adventure he came into a forest. And in the
midst of a highway he met with a damsel riding on a white palfrey, and
either saluted other: 'Fair damsel,' said Sir Launcelot, 'know ye in this
country any adventures?' 'Sir Knight,' said the damsel, 'here are
adventures near at hand, an thou durst prove them.' 'Why should I not
prove adventures,' said Sir Launcelot, 'as for that cause came I hither?'"
And on another occasion, we read, Sir Launcelot passed out of the (King
Arthur's) court to seek adventures, and Sir Ector made him ready to meet
Sir Launcelot, and as he had ridden long in a great forest, he met with a
man that was like a forester.--These frequent notices of "riding long
through a great forest" are noticeable as evidences of the condition of
the country in those days.--"Fair fellow," said Sir Ector, "knowest thou
in this country any adventures which be here nigh at hand?" "Sir," said
the forester, "this country know I well, and here within this mile is a
strong manor and well ditched"--not well walled; it was the fashion of the
Middle Ages to choose low sites for their manor-houses, and to surround
them with moats--such moats are still common round old manor-houses in
Essex--"and by that manor on the left hand is a fair ford for horses to
drink, and over that ford there groweth a fair tree, and thereon hangeth
many fair shields that belonged some time unto good knights; and at the
hole of the tree hangeth a bason of copper and laten; and strike upon that
bason with the end of the spear thrice, and soon after thou shalt hear
good tidings, and else hast thou the fairest grace that many a year any
knight had that passed through this forest."
[Illustration: _Preliminaries of Combat in Green Court of Castle._]
Every castle offered hope, not only of hospitality, but also of a trial of
arms; for in every castle there would be likely to be knights and squires
glad of the opportunity of running a course with bated spears with a new
and skilful antagonist. Here is a picture from an old MS. which represents
the preliminaries of such a combat on the green between the castle walls
and the moat. In many castles there was a special tilting-ground. Thus we
read, "Sir Percivale passed the water, and when he came unto the castle
gate, he said to the porter, 'Go thou unto the good knight within the
castle, and tell him that here is came an errant knight to just with him.'
'Sir,' said the porter, 'ride ye within the castle, and there shall ye
find a common place for justing, that lords and ladies may behold you.'"
At Carisbrook Castle, in the Isle of Wight, the tilting-ground remains to
this day; a plot of level green sward, with raised turfed banks round it,
that at the same time served as the enclosure of the lists, and a
vantage-ground from which the spectators might see the sport. At
Gawsworth, also, the ancient tilting-ground still remains. But in most
castles of any size, the outer court afforded room enough for a course,
and at the worst there was the green meadow outside the castle walls. In
some castles they had special customs; just as in old-fashioned
country-houses one used to be told it was "the custom of the house" to do
this and that; so it was "the custom of the castle" for every knight to
break three lances, for instance, or exchange three strokes of sword with
the lord--a quondam errant knight be sure, thus creating adventures for
himself at home when marriage and cares of property forbade him to roam in
search of them. Thus, in the Romance:--"Sir Tristram and Sir Dinadan rode
forth their way till they came to some shepherds and herdsmen, and there
they asked if they knew any lodging or harbour thereabout." "Forsooth,
fair lords," said the herdsmen, "nigh hereby is a good lodging in a
castle, but such a custom there is that there shall no knight be lodged
but if he first just with two knights, and if ye be beaten, and have the
worse, ye shall not be lodged there, and if ye beat them, ye shall be well
lodged." The Knights of the Round Table easily vanquished the two knights
of the castle, and were hospitably received; but while they were at table
came Sir Palomides, and Sir Gaheris, "requiring to have the custom of the
castle." "And now," said Sir Tristram, "must we defend the custom of the
castle, inasmuch as we have the better of the lord of the castle."
Here is the kind of invitation they were sure to receive from gentlemen
living peaceably on their estates, but sympathising with the high spirit
and love of adventure which sent young knights a-wandering through their
woods and meadows, and under their castle walls:--Sir Tristram and Sir
Gareth "were ware of a knight that came riding against [towards] them
unarmed, and nothing about him but a sword; and when this knight came nigh
them he saluted them, and they him again. 'Fair knights,' said that
knight, 'I pray you, inasmuch as ye are knights errant, that ye will come
and see my castle, and take such as ye find there, I pray you heartily.'
And so they rode with him to his castle, and there they were brought to
the hall that was well appareled, and so they were unarmed and set at a
board."
We have already heard in these brief extracts of knights lodging at
castles and abbeys: we often find them received at manor-houses. Here is
one of the most graphic pictures:--"Then Sir Launcelot mounted upon his
horse and rode into many strange and wild countries, and through many
waters and valleys, and evil was he lodged. And at the last, by fortune,
it happened him against a night to come to a poor courtilage, and therein
he found an old gentleman, which lodged him with a good will, and there he
and his horse were well cheered. And when time was, his host brought him
to a fair garret over a gate to his bed. There Sir Launcelot unarmed him,
and set his harness by him, and went to bed, and anon he fell in sleep.
So, soon after, there came one on horseback, and knocked at the gate in
great haste. And when Sir Launcelot heard this, he arose up and looked out
at the window, and saw by the moonlight three knights that came riding
after that one man, and all three lashed upon him at once with their
swords, and that one knight turned on them knightly again, and defended
himself." And Sir Launcelot, like an errant knight, "took his harness and
went out at the window by a sheet," and made them yield, and commanded
them at Whit Sunday to go to King Arthur's court, and there yield them
unto Queen Guenever's grace and mercy; for so errant knights gave to their
lady-loves the evidences of their prowess, and did them honour, by sending
them a constant succession of vanquished knights, and putting them "unto
her grace and mercy."
Very often the good knight in the midst of forest or wild found a night's
shelter in a friendly hermitage, for hermitages, indeed, were established
partly to afford shelter to belated travellers. Here is an example. Sir
Tor asks the dwarf who is his guide, "'Know ye any lodging?' 'I know
none,' said the dwarf; 'but here beside is an hermitage, and there ye
must take such lodging as ye find.' And within a while they came to the
hermitage and took lodging, and there was grass and oats and bread for
their horses. Soon it was spread, and full hard was their supper; but
there they rested them all the night till on the morrow, and heard a mass
devoutly, and took their leave of the hermit, and Sir Tor prayed the
hermit to pray for him, and he said he would, and betook him to God; and
so he mounted on horseback, and rode towards Camelot."
But sometimes not even a friendly hermitage came in sight at the hour of
twilight, when the forest glades darkened, and the horse track across the
moor could no longer be seen, and the knight had to betake himself to a
soldier's bivouac. It is an incident often met with in the Romances. Here
is a more poetical description than usual:--"And anon these knights made
them ready, and rode over holts and hills, through forests and woods, till
they came to a fair meadow full of fair flowers and grass, and there they
rested them and their horses all that night." Again, "Sir Launcelot rode
into a forest, and there he met with a gentlewoman riding upon a white
palfrey, and she asked him, 'Sir Knight, whither ride ye?' 'Certainly,
damsel,' said Sir Launcelot, 'I wot not whither I ride, but as fortune
leadeth me.'... Then Sir Launcelot asked her where he might be harboured
that night. 'Ye shall none find this day nor night, but to-morrow ye shall
find good harbour.' And then he commended her unto God. Then he rode till
he came to a cross, and took that for his host as for that night. And he
put his horse to pasture, and took off his helm and shield, and made his
prayers to the cross, that he might never again fall into deadly sin, and
so he laid him down to sleep, and anon as he slept it befel him that he
had a vision," with which we will not trouble the reader; but we commend
the incident to any young artist in want of a subject for a picture: the
wayside cross where the four roads meet in the forest, the gnarled
tree-trunks with their foliage touched with autumn tints, and the green
bracken withering into brown and yellow and red, under the level rays of
the sun which fling alternate bars of light and shade across the scene;
and the noble war-horse peacefully grazing on the short sweet forest
grass, and the peerless knight in glorious gilded arms, with his helmet at
his feet, and his great spear leaned against a tree-trunk, kneeling
before the cross, with his grave noble face, and his golden hair gleaming
in the sun-light, "making his prayers that he might never again fall into
deadly sin."
In the old monumental brasses in which pictures of the knightly costume
are preserved to us with such wonderful accuracy and freshness, it is very
common to find the knight represented as lying with his tilting helm under
his head by way of pillow. One would take it for a mere artistic
arrangement for raising the head of the recumbent figure, and for
introducing this important portion of his costume, but that the Romances
tell us that knights did actually make use of their helm for a pillow; a
hard pillow, no doubt--but we have all heard of the veteran who kicked
from under his son's head the snowball which he had rolled together for a
pillow at his bivouac in the winter snow, indignant at his degenerate
effeminacy. Thus we read of Sir Tristram and Sir Palomides, "They mounted
upon their horses, and rode together into the forest, and there they found
a fair well with clear water burbelling. 'Fair Sir,' said Sir Tristram,
'to drink of that water have I a lust.' And then they alighted from their
horses, and then were they ware by them where stood a great horse tied to
a tree, and ever he neighed, and then were they ware of a fair knight
armed under a tree, lacking no piece of harness, save his helm lay under
his head. Said Sir Tristram, 'Yonder lieth a fair knight, what is best to
do?' 'Awake him,' said Sir Palomides. So Sir Tristram waked him with the
end of his spear." They had better have let him be, for the knight, thus
roused, got him to horse and overthrew them both. Again, we read how "Sir
Launcelot bad his brother, Sir Lionel, to make him ready, for we two, said
he, will seek adventures. So they mounted upon their horses, armed at all
points, and rode into a deep forest, and after they came into a great
plain, and then the weather was hot about noon, and Sir Launcelot had
great lust to sleep. Then Sir Lionel espied a great apple-tree that stood
by a hedge, and said, 'Brother, yonder is a fair shadow; there may we rest
us, and our horses.' 'It is well said, fair brother,' said Sir Launcelot,
'for all the seven year I was not so sleepy as I am now.' And so they
alighted there, and tied their horses unto sundry trees, and so Sir
Launcelot laid him down under an apple-tree, and laid his helm under his
head. And Sir Lionel waked while he slept."
[Illustration: _Knights, Damsel, and Squire._]
The knight did not, however, always trust to chance for shelter, and risk
a night in the open air. Sometimes we find he took the field in this mimic
warfare with a baggage train, and had his tent pitched for the night
wherever night overtook him, or camped for a few days wherever a pleasant
glade, or a fine prospect, or an agreeable neighbour, tempted him to
prolong his stay. And he would picket his horse hard by, and thrust his
spear into the ground beside the tent door, and hang his shield upon it.
Thus we read:--"Now turn we unto Sir Launcelot, that had long been riding
in a great forest, and at last came into a low country, full of fair
rivers and meadows, and afore him he saw a long bridge, and three
pavilions stood thereon of silk and sendal of divers hue, and without the
pavilions hung three white shields on truncheons of spears, and great long
spears stood upright by the pavilions, and at every pavilion's door stood
three fresh squires, and so Sir Launcelot passed by them, and spake not a
word." We may say here that it was not unusual for people in fine weather
to pitch a tent in the courtyard or garden of the castle, and live there
instead of indoors, or to go a-field and pitch a little camp in some
pleasant place, and spend the time in justing and feasting, and mirth and
minstrelsy. We read in one of the Romances how "the king and queen--King
Arthur and Queen Guenever, to wit--made their pavilions and their tents to
be pitched in the forest, beside a river, and there was daily hunting, for
there were ever twenty knights ready for to just with all them that came
in at that time." And here, in the woodcut below, is a picture of the
scene.
Usually, perhaps, there was not much danger in these adventures of a
knight-errant. There was a fair prospect of bruises, and a risk of broken
bones if he got an awkward fall, but not more risk perhaps than in the
modern hunting-field. Even if the combat went further than the usual three
courses with bated spears, if they did draw swords and continue the combat
on foot, there was usually no more real danger than in a duel of German
students. But sometimes cause of anger would accidentally rise between two
errant knights, or the combat begun in courtesy would fire their hot
blood, and they would resolve "worshipfully to win worship, or die
knightly on the field," and a serious encounter would take place. There
were even some knights of evil disposition enough to take delight in
making every combat a serious one; and some of the adventures in which we
take most interest relate how these bloodthirsty bullies, attacking in
ignorance some Knight of the Round Table, got a well-deserved bloodletting
for their pains.
[Illustration: _King, &c., in Pavilion before Castle._]
We must give one example of a combat--rather a long one, but it combines
many different points of interest. "So as they (Merlin and King Arthur)
went thus talking, they came to a fountain, and a rich pavilion by it.
Then was King Arthur aware where a knight sat all armed in a chair. 'Sir
Knight,' said King Arthur, 'for what cause abidest thou here, that there
may no knight ride this way, but if he do just with thee; leave that
custom.' 'This custom,' said the knight, 'have I used, and will use maugre
who saith nay, and who is grieved with my custom, let him amend it that
will.' 'I will amend it,' saith King Arthur. 'And I shall defend it,'
saith the knight. Anon he took his horse, and dressed his shield, and took
a spear; and they met so hard either on other's shield, that they shivered
their spears. Therewith King Arthur drew his sword. 'Nay, not so,' saith
the knight, 'it is fairer that we twain run more together with sharp
spears.' 'I will well,' said King Arthur, 'an I had any more spears.' 'I
have spears enough,' said the knight. So there came a squire, and brought
two good spears, and King Arthur took one, and he another; so they spurred
their horses, and came together with all their might, that either break
their spears in their hands. Then King Arthur set hand to his sword.
'Nay,' said the knight, 'ye shall do better; ye are a passing good juster
as ever I met withal; for the love of the high order of knighthood let us
just it once again.' 'I assent me,' said King Arthur. Anon there were
brought two good spears, and each knight got a spear, and therewith they
ran together, that King Arthur's spear broke to shivers. But the knight
hit him so hard in the middle of the shield, that horse and man fell to
the earth, wherewith King Arthur was sore angered, and drew out his sword,
and said, 'I will assay thee, Sir Knight, on foot, for I have lost the
honour on horseback.' 'I will be on horseback,' said the knight. Then was
King Arthur wrath, and dressed his shield towards him with his sword
drawn. When the knight saw that, he alighted for him, for he thought it
was no worship to have a knight at such advantage, he to be on horseback,
and the other on foot, and so alighted, and dressed himself to King
Arthur. Then there began a strong battle with many great strokes, and so
hewed with their swords that the cantels flew on the field, and much blood
they bled both, so that all the place where they fought was all bloody;
and thus they fought long and rested them, and then they went to battle
again, and so hurtled together like two wild boars, that either of them
fell to the earth. So at the last they smote together, that both their
swords met even together. But the sword of the knight smote King Arthur's
sword in two pieces, wherefore he was heavy. Then said the knight to the
king, 'Thou art in my danger, whether me list to slay thee or save thee;
and but thou yield thee as overcome and recreant, thou shalt die.' 'As for
death,' said King Arthur, 'welcome be it when it cometh, but as to yield
me to thee as recreant, I had liever die than be so shamed.' And
therewithal the king leapt upon Pelinore, and took him by the middle, and
threw him down, and rased off his helmet. When the knight felt that he was
a dread, for he was a passing big man of might; and anon he brought King
Arthur under him, and rased off his helmet, and would have smitten off his
head. Therewithal came Merlin, and said, 'Knight, hold thy hand.'"
[Illustration: _Knights Justing._]
Happy for the wounded knight if there were a religious house at hand, for
there he was sure to find kind hospitality and such surgical skill as the
times afforded. King Bagdemagus had this good fortune when he had been
wounded by Sir Galahad. "I am sore wounded," said he, "and full hardly
shall I escape from the death. Then the squire fet [fetched] his horse,
and brought him with great pain to an abbey. Then was he taken down softly
and unarmed, and laid in a bed, and his wound was looked into, for he lay
there long and escaped hard with his life." So Sir Tristram, in his combat
with Sir Marhaus, was so sorely wounded, "that unneath he might recover,
and lay at a nunnery half a year." Such adventures sometimes, no doubt,
ended fatally, as in the case of the unfortunate Sir Marhaus, and there
was a summary conclusion to his adventures; and there was nothing left but
to take him home and bury him in his parish church, and hang his sword and
helmet over his tomb.[376] Many a knight would be satisfied with the
series of adventures which finished by laying him on a sick bed for six
months, with only an ancient nun for his nurse; and as soon as he was well
enough he would get himself conveyed home on a horse litter, a sadder and
a wiser man. The modern romances have good mediæval authority, too, for
making marriage a natural conclusion of their three volumes of adventures;
we have no less authority for it than that of Sir Launcelot:--"Now,
damsel," said he, at the conclusion of an adventure, "will ye any more
service of me?" "Nay, sir," said she at this time, "but God preserve you,
wherever ye go or ride, for the courtliest knight thou art, and meekest to
all ladies and gentlewomen that now liveth. But, Sir Knight, one thing me
thinketh that ye lack, ye that are a knight wifeless, that ye will not
love some maiden or gentlewoman, for I could never hear say that ye loved
any of no manner degree, wherefore many in this country of high estate and
low make great sorrow." "Fair damsel," said Sir Launcelot, "to be a wedded
man I think never to be, for if I were, then should I be bound to tarry
with my wife, and leave arms and tournaments, battles and adventures."
We have only space left for a few examples of the quaint and poetical
phrases that, as we have said, frequently occur in these Romances, some of
which Tennyson has culled, and set like uncut mediæval gems in his circlet
of "Idyls of the King." In the account of the great battle between King
Arthur and his knights against the eleven kings "and their chivalry," we
read "they were so courageous, that many knights shook and trembled for
eagerness," and "they fought together, that the sound rang by the water
and the wood," and "there was slain that morrow-tide ten thousand of good
men's bodies." The second of these expressions is a favourite one; we meet
with it again: "when King Ban came into the battle, he came in so
fiercely, that the stroke resounded again from the water and the wood."
Again we read, King Arthur "commanded his trumpets to blow the bloody
sounds in such wise that the earth trembled and dindled." He was "a mighty
man of men;" and "all men of worship said it was merry to be under such a
chieftain, that would put his person in adventure as other poor knights
did."