that men might prepare for them, than I may well tell ye; and Morien
prayed his father straitly that he would delay not, but would tell him
what was in his thought and in his intent. Thus did he urge his father,
till Sir Agloval told him all his mind.
He said that he beheld a vision in a dream; it seemed to him that he
rode throughout the day in a land where he saw naught but wilderness and
wood, and trees, many and fair. By whiles he rode through hail and snow,
by whiles through noontide heat, so that he was sore vexed. Whiles he
saw the sun shine bright, whiles it was as if the twilight fell. He saw
all kinds of beasts run through the forest, and folk, young and old, go
up and down the woods. All this did he see in his dream, but nowhere in
all this land did he come to where he might find shelter. But as it drew
towards evening, and the light failed, did he think to see a tower, so
strongly builded that none by force might lightly win their way within;
but no doorway might he see, only, as it were, another tower that stood
there. Within this he beheld a stairway, that wound upward to a doorway
at the end. The door seemed to him high as a church, and of wrought
ironwork. Were a man sick he might well be healed by the light that
streamed forth from within, for, as he saw and looked upon it, it seemed
as it might well be Heaven. And every step of the stairway was of good
red gold. And he thought within himself that since those steps were so
fair he might well set foot thereon, and tell the tale of them, how many
they might be, that hereafter he might speak of the great marvel he had
seen. But as he had counted sixty, and would set foot upon the next, lo!
he saw none of all those he had left below him, save that upon which he
stood, and on which his foot was set, and above him he saw naught. And
it seemed to him that the door was distant from the step as high as one
might shoot with a bow. Thus might he go neither forward nor backward.
Then he beheld, and on the ground beneath were serpents and wild bears,
even as if they would tear him; they gnashed their teeth as if they
would seize him, and gaped with their jaws as they would swallow him. It
seemed to him as if they were even at his heels, and he saw the snakes
and dragons all twist themselves upwards. "And as I was thus fearful the
step brake beneath me, and I fell downwards." From his great discomfort
and his fear of the dragons he awoke, and slept no more.
The dream vexed him sorely whenever he thought thereon; he was angry and
wroth, and wist not what the portent of the vision might be. But his
heart forbode him that pain and mischief, and sore labour withal, drew
nigh to him. Then it fell out that he met with a learned clerk, to whom
he told the vision even as it had appeared to him; and when he had
hearkened to his tale, and understood it well, he interpreted it in this
wise: "Concerning our lands, great and small, that we thereof should be
in great stress and fear ere we might win to them again; for strong were
the castles and mighty the armies, therefore did the vision foretell
ill to my brother and myself each and singly. And further he spake
concerning my brother Perceval, and the Spear, and the Grail; for that
golden stairway betokened the Holy Grail, and that Perceval should aid
in the winning thereof, and in that service should he die. Thus did he
foretell me. And the door that stood above and the stairway itself both
alike betokened the heavenly kingdom, as might well be known by the
light that shone within; and the steps that lay before it they betokened
the days of Perceval's life. 'This I tell ye of a truth, each betokeneth
a day, or a week, or it may be a month; but of this be ye sure, and
doubt not, so long shall he live, and then shall he yield up his life.
And that the steps brake beneath ye, 'twas for your sins; ye had
well-nigh climbed them had not sin laid hold on ye. The bears, and the
dragons, and the serpents that there lay in wait, know ye well that they
gave sure and certain sign that the fiends deemed they had ye for their
own in that hour, and would carry ye to Hell.'" Thus did the wise master
make known to him his dream, and bade him thereof take warning and order
his ways with wisdom, and that speedily, and delay not, for here should
he abide no long time, but drew nigh to his end.
"Dear son," quoth Sir Agloval, "then did my brother cease his quest for
the Spear and the Grail, and the adventure on which he was bound, and
came hither as swiftly as he might to mine uncle the hermit, and clothed
himself in this habit, through that which the clerk foretold me. Thus
are we here together, and my brother would fain amend his life. Nor am
I yet whole; for I was wounded wellnigh to death, and bruised and
mishandled, so that I had no power left, and am yet scarce healed. Thus
would I abide here awhile with my brother and mine uncle, that my wounds
might be tended, and that with them I might save my soul. Now ye will
that I journey with ye to your mother in the Moorish land, and I were
fain to ride thither were I but healed. Yet is there another matter. I
would gladly go with ye, that may ye know of a truth, for your honour,
and to do away your shame, were it not that I thus brought about my
death; nevertheless, I have trust in mine uncle, who is so wise, that he
shall make my peace with God, and bring me to eternal bliss. Now, son,
bethink ye of our profit, yours and mine, according to that which has
befallen me, and that ye have now heard even as I tell ye. Counsel me as
it seemeth ye best; since that I be your father, according as matters
went afore 'twixt me and your mother, it behoves ye well so to do."
Then quoth Morien: "Were ye better healed I would ride gladly, but it
becometh me well to shun aught that might do ye harm or mischief. I can
give ye none other counsel than that ye abide here till ye be once more
whole. King Arthur is captive and his land is beset and in sore stress.
Here is his nephew Sir Gariët, who hath come hither with me, and now
that I have learnt the truth I shall ride with him to court, to do him
honour, and there abide till that ye be whole and healed; and I will
return hither in the hour that I know ye be cured of your wounds and may
keep the oath that ye sware to my mother, that ye be praised of men and
in favour with God. So shall my mother once more be possessed of the
lands of which she hath been disinherited, and which she hath this long
time lacked. I shall depart and ye shall abide here, where may all good
befall ye! I will aid the queen, and God grant that I may win such fame
as shall be for the bettering of her cause and mine own honour and
profit. I shall return, be ye sure of it, when the time is ripe, and
shall ever think of ye as my father."
Then all thanked Morien, deeming that as at that time no better counsel
might be found; and Sir Gariët and Morien alike besought of Sir Perceval
that he would ride with them, to aid the queen and release King Arthur,
and bring comfort to his land. This he sware to do would his uncle grant
him leave thereto. Then did they all, and Sir Agloval with them, so
straitly pray the uncle that he granted their request, and never might
ye see at any time folk so blithe as were these knights in that Sir
Perceval would ride with them. Thus did they take their leave and wend
on their way. But now will I leave speaking of them and tell how it
fared with Sir Lancelot, who would slay the evil beast. Now doth the
adventure tell us that when Sir Lancelot departed from Sir Gawain at the
cross-roads he delayed not, but rode that same hour till he came to the
waste land wherein the beast had wrought havoc. Now in that land there
dwelt a maiden who had caused it to be made known far and wide that
whosoever might slay that beast him would she take for her husband.
Never might man behold a fairer maiden, and the land was all in her own
power. Now there dwelt also therein a traitor, a knight who loved the
maiden, but had little mind to risk his life for her; he kept close
watch upon that beast if so be that any man should slay it that he might
play the traitor, so should the slayer pay with his life for the deed,
and he should spread abroad that he himself had, of a verity, slain the
monster.
Thus Sir Lancelot rode so far into the land that he came nigh to the
place where he had heard that the fearful beast had made its lair. There
did he see many a helm, and spear, and weapon of the knights it had
slain, whose bones lay there stripped of flesh, which the monster had
devoured; he might well be afraid! So soon as Lancelot might know where
the beast was wont to lie, he made haste thitherward, and so soon as it
was ware of his coming it came flying in such guise as it had been the
Devil, and set upon Sir Lancelot straightway. It feared neither sword
nor spear, nor armour, nor might of man. And Lancelot smote at the
monster so that his spear brake in twain, yet had he not bruised it a
whit, or pierced its hide; then he drew forth his sword and smote with
great force, but he harmed it not, and it seized Lancelot by the throat
and scored him in such wise that the knight was wroth thereof, for it
tare a great rent through the hauberk even to the flesh, and wounded him
sore. Many a time did Sir Lancelot strike and smite at the beast, but
never a groat might he harm it; but the monster fell upon Sir Lancelot
and scored him even to the feet, and dealt him many a wound, and
breathed out venom upon him; had it not been for a ring which Sir
Lancelot ware upon his finger he had fallen dead where he stood from the
poison. Then the monster sprang towards him with gaping jaws, as it were
fain to swallow him, and Lancelot watched his chance, and thrust his
sword into its mouth, and clave the heart in sunder, and the beast gave
a cry so terrible that 'twas heard a good two mile off.
Then the traitor who spied all from afar, when he heard the cry delayed
not, but rode swiftly towards the lair, for he knew well from the cry
that the monster was slain. When he came to the place he found Sir
Lancelot sitting, binding up his wounds, which were many and deep. The
knight began to bemoan his plight, and went towards him saying that he
would bind his wounds for him. That cowardly and wicked knight, he came
even to Sir Lancelot's side, and snatched stealthily at his sword, and
sprang backward and smote at him, wounding him so that he fell as one
dead.
When the false traitor saw this he deemed that he was dead, and left him
lying, and went there, where the monster lay, and smote off the right
foot, thinking to take it to the maiden of whom I have told ye, that he
might therewith win her to wife.
But in this while had Sir Gawain ridden so far that he had learned the
truth how that Sir Lancelot had found the beast, and at this time he had
followed upon his tracks and came unto the lair even as the traitor had
wounded Sir Lancelot, and cut off the foot, and was mounted upon Sir
Lancelot's steed, which that good knight, Sir Gawain, knew right well.
So soon as he saw the stranger upon the steed, and Lancelot, who lay
there wounded, he rode fast towards him, and drew out his good sword,
and cried, "Abide ye still, Sir Murderer, for this beast have ye slain
my comrade, that do I see right well." That false and cruel knight had
fain ridden thence, but Sir Gawain was so nigh to him that he could not
avoid, and smote at him so fiercely that he must needs abide, and draw
bridle, and pray for mercy.
Sir Gawain was of a mind to bring him to Sir Lancelot ere he made terms
with him. Thus they came together, and Lancelot, who was now recovered
from the swoon in which he had lain, and was ware of Sir Gawain, cried
to him concerning the traitor who had smitten him all unarmed, "Dear
comrade, slay him. I shall die the easier, knowing that he be already
dead." As he spake thus, Sir Gawain made no more ado but smote off the
traitor's head.
Then did he forthwith go to bemoan his comrade, and quoth, "Sir Knight,
may ye not be healed? Tell me now the truth; I will aid ye as I may."
Then Sir Lancelot did him to wit how he had fared with the beast, and
how the traitor had thereafter wounded him. "And this hath wrought me
the greater harm; yet might I but find a place wherein to rest methinks
I might well be healed."
Then was Sir Gawain glad at heart, and he bound up his wounds forthwith
with herbs of such virtue as should stay the bleeding; and he took Sir
Lancelot and set him upon his steed, and turned him again towards the
hermit's cell as best he might, for 'twas in both their minds that might
they but come thither Sir Gawain should surely heal him. Thus did they
ride until they had found the hermitage, and scarce had they come
thither when they were ware of Morien with Sir Gariët and Sir Perceval,
who came thither as at that time.
Then was there joy and gladness manifold. The Hermit made ready food for
his guests, and prepared a couch for Sir Lancelot as best he might. Each
told the other how matters had fallen out with them, and Morien gave
them to wit how it had fared with his father.
That night were they well entreated by the hermit, but the morrow so
soon as Sir Lancelot heard how it went with the queen, even should he
gain the world thereby he had remained no longer, neither for wounds nor
for weariness, for, he said, he was surely healed, and was fain to be at
strife. Thus must they all ride forth, whether they would or no, with
the early morning, for they might not lose a day. Sir Gawain would tend
Sir Lancelot's wounds even as they rode on their way.
Thus they journeyed till they heard true tidings of their lady, the
queen; how that she was beset on all sides by the King of Ireland. He
had burnt and laid waste so much men scarce knew the tale thereof, and
the queen had he beset in a castle to which he himself laid siege. For
he had sworn a great oath, nor would he lightly break it, that might
he win the castle he should spare no man of all that were within, but
should put such shame upon them, and on the queen, that men should speak
thereof for all time. Thus had the king sworn by his crown, and by all
that may bind a king, that he would do them bitter shame.
When the knights of whom I tell ye came into Arthur's land they saw
there a castle, around which ran a swift water, broad and deep. He who
builded that burg was well counselled. The castle was of grey hewn
stone. King Arthur had never a stronghold in the losing of which he had
lost so much, and this was not yet lost. But the folk that were within
had no more than a day's grace left to them, on the morrow must they
fare forth, for would they defend it no quarter should be shown them,
but they should be seethed or roasted alive. This had the king sworn and
on the morrow would he come thither; he had laid waste the country and
destroyed the churches, and made many widows and orphans; all the land
was in terror for the harm thus wrought upon them. The knights who
came thither saw the folk as they fled with all their goods and their
foodstuff, they deemed theirs was a lost cause. They met many folk, men
women and children who would flee the land; they drave their cattle
before them and were laden with their goods; some were ahorse, some
afoot, 'twas the best they might do to their thinking.
Then Sir Gariët gave courteous greeting to one whom he met, and asked
who were this folk, and wherefore they fled thus in haste? And the
goodman answered straight-way: "They deem that all is lost; the King
cometh hither to this castle that standeth here, and the people of the
land know not what they may do, they must lose their goods and all they
possess. Here hath a great misfortune chanced, the ordeal hath gone over
us; King Arthur hath been taken captive and we know not where he may be,
he was waylaid and betrayed in a forest, whither he went to hunt, and we
saw him never more. The King of Ireland hath seized upon all this land,
he who would save his life must perforce yield to him, for he hath with
him a mighty army and our folk are defenceless. We lack leaders--Sir
Gawain and Sir Lancelot have both of them left the land, and thereof
hath great shame come to us--we are without king, or leaders, or
counsel."
Quoth Morien: "This castle that standeth here, is there yet any man
within?"
The goodman said: "I tell ye there are ten knights within (and they have
naught but death before them), and a great company of foot soldiers.
Now must they reap that mischance which hath fallen upon the land. They
might well have held the castle for a year to come, so strong is it,
and they have within weapons and victuals, and men enough for the
defence--it might scarce be taken by force so long as they had food,
nor might any man lightly make his way therein. But methinks God hath
forsaken us. The king hath sworn an oath that if need be he will besiege
the castle seven years, and all they who withstand him, and whom he
shall find within at his coming thither, shall lose their lives; this
hath he made known to them. And their wives and their children, though
their lives be spared, shall be deprived of their goods and their
heritage. Thus, since we may not hope for aid, we are forsaking the
castle and taking to flight."
Quoth Sir Gawain: "Good friend, God reward ye for your tidings."
Then Sir Gawain bethought him that 'twere best they rode within the
castle which was a fair burg, and strong; and that they should there
greet the knights and strangers who might be within, bidding them trust
in God that He would bring their matter to a good ending. The knights
were right well received, for all knew them well, and made great
rejoicing over the coming of Sir Gawain and Sir Lancelot. Then did Sir
Gawain give them to wit of the good knight Sir Morien, what he had done
for them, and how he was one of the best knights the sun ever shone
upon. Thus spake Sir Gawain.
Then said Sir Morien: "'Tis good that we abide here within, and brave
the venture for the sake of the king our lord. 'Twere a sin and a
disgrace to yield up the castle, we should better adventure our lives
and see the matter to an end."
Sir Gawain and Sir Lancelot took up the word and said: "He who faileth
his king 'tis right that men speak shame of him thereafter throughout
the world. Would ye have good fortune ye must await what cometh, and I
have good hope that heaven shall shortly send us help. Here may we well
win fame for ourselves and uphold the honour of our lord King Arthur.
Though he be now a captive yet, an God will, he shall escape. My heart
and my mind fore-tell me that will we but hold out here within it
shall be to our honour!"
Thus did Sir Gawain and Sir Lancelot admonish them, even as I tell ye,
and when they had hearkened to their words those who were within,
and had thought to depart, when they knew what was the mind of those
knights, sware that never a knight nor squire, nor man-at-arms would
give himself up, or forsake that good castle. Morien's counsel seemed to
them good, and although he were not fair to look upon yet when he stood
upon his feet it seemed to them that had he the chance he might put to
the rout a whole army! Each man there gave his surety to abide with them
at that time, nor to surrender through fear of death, but to hearken to
other counsel.
When all had sworn the oath, and given surety, then did they shut fast
the portals upon all their food and all the aid they might win against
the king and his army who were nigh at hand.
Ere the day darkened came the king himself, in great wrath, and with him
many knights who belonged to his household, and many other folk, warlike
to behold, and came even to the castle. Then the king demanded of those
who were within if they would yield up the burg, and thus save their
lives. And they within answered that so long as life remained to them
they would not give up the castle, or betray their rightful lord. Then
swore the king an oath that an they yielded them not up straight-way
they should in no wise escape the uttermost that he might do unto them.
But for that they cared little, and made them ready for the defence.
They thought to remain upon the battlements, and throw from the castle
stones so great and so heavy that the king should be driven from the
walls out on to the open field where he had pitched his tents.
With that had the night fallen, and they who had come into the land set
up tents and pavilions, and would lodge in the green-wood. When they of
within saw that they took counsel together, and said did they leave them
in peace that night the king would, doubtless, send for a greater force
of knights and other folk, and assemble a mighty army, and it were
better that they should now adventure themselves, and ride forth from
the castle ere they were yet more outnumbered. Hereof had they bethought
them ere yet they came to counsel.
Sir Lancelot spake thus: "Flee we may not, nor dare we hope for aid, nor
may we surrender the castle; in this way shall we profit better." Thus
were they that night within the castle, neither with game nor with
revel, but they held together as true knights and good comrades. They
ate and drank of such victuals as they had, and never a man of them
wavered as it drew nigh to the dawning; they were fain to do great
deeds; each looked to his armour as one who will fight for his life, and
gave his steed a feed of corn.
What boots it to make long my tale? With the dawning of the day were
they of within ready, each man well armed and mounted on a good steed.
They rode out betimes, and bade undo the gates. Thus did they ride forth
in all their strength.
They who kept shield-watch without were ware of them, and led their
company against them, but it harmed them naught. Morien's weapons were
so strong; 'twas he led the vanguard, nor would he yield an inch when
he began the strife. Never might one behold mortal man who smote such
strokes. They fought their way through that camp. Sir Gawain, Sir
Perceval, and Sir Lancelot smote many to death, and came even to the
king's tents, and seized their weapons, shields, and spears, ere his
folk might come at their arms. They knew not what had befallen them. No
quarter would the knights give. They who were with the king slept sound
in their ranks, and were sore afeard when they awoke and beheld the
armed men who beset them with stern intent; they had many a sore wound
ere they fled from the field.
They took the king by main force; there was no man at his side but was
glad and blithe might he escape with his life. The king must yield
himself a prisoner, thereto did need compel him, otherwise had he been
slain and all his folk with him.
They led the king within the castle, and shut him fast in a tower.
Never had they so welcome a guest, nor one at whose coming they were so
blithe. They on the field must escape as best they might. Little did
they reck of all they brought with them; he might win it who had a mind
thereto. When the fight was ended King Arthur's men had taken captive
much folk and the King of Ireland. Matters had gone well for them. They
held there within that which they deemed many would buy dearly, nor
count the gold therefor, nor might they well tell how they had lost it.
But 'twas their dread of Morien's mighty blows, and of Sir Lancelot, Sir
Gawain, and Sir Perceval, who, on the field, had brought many in sore
terror and dread of death.
So brought they their guests within the walls, and shut fast their
gates, and hung out their shields, as men who might well defend
themselves. Then when men beheld Sir Gawain's badge, and Sir Lancelot's
pennon beside it, tidings of the combat ran far and wide through the
land. The king's folk who lay there were sore vexed thereat. So soon as
they who had besieged the queen heard what had chanced they drew off
their forces; and all they who served the king, and who came with him
into the lands, were greatly shamed, and desired of Sir Gawain in what
wise they might make peace.
Sir Gawain took counsel with his comrades, and this was their rede, that
they must bring King Arthur there before their eyes ere they might make
terms for their lord, the king. "Then shall we have such good counsel on
all points that peace may thereby be made."