King Uther, by the counsel of Ulfin, commanded Merlin to be brought

before him. The king opened out his bitter need. He prayed that for

pity's sake Merlin would find him a way to his hope, so he were able,

since die he must if of Igerne he got no comfort. But let the clerk

seek and buy so that the king had his will. Money and wealth would be

granted plenteously, if gold were needed, for great as was the king's

evil, so large would be his delight. "Sire," answered Merlin, "have

her you shall. Never let it be said that you died for a woman's love.

Right swiftly will I bring you to your wish, or evil be the bounty

that I receive of the king's hand. Hearken to me. Igerne is guarded

very closely in Tintagel. The castle is shut fast, and plenteously

supplied with all manner of store. The walls are strong and high, so

that it may not be taken by might; and it is victualled so well,

that none may win there by siege. The castle also is held of loyal

castellans, but for all their vigils, I know well how to enter therein

at my pleasure, by reason of my potions. By craft I can change a man's

countenance to the fashion of his neighbour, and of two men each shall

take on his fellow's semblance. In body and visage, in speech and

seeming, without doubt I can shape you to the likeness of the Earl

of Cornwall. Why waste the time with many words! You, sire, shall

be fashioned as the earl. I, who purpose to go with you on this

adventure, will wear the semblance of Bertel. Ulfin, here, shall

come in the guise of Jordan. These two knights are the earl's chosen

friends, and are very close to his mind and heart. In this manner we

may enter boldly in his castle of Tintagel, and you shall have your

will of the lady. We shall be known of none, for not a man will doubt

us other than we seem." The king had faith in Merlin's word, and held

his counsel good. He gave over the governance of the host, privily, to

a lord whom he much loved. Merlin put forth his arts, and transfigured

their faces and vesture into the likeness of the earl and his people.

That very night the king and his companions entered in Tintagel. The

porter in his lodge, and the steward within his office, deemed him

their lord. They welcomed him gladly, and served him with joy.

When meat was done the king had his delight of a lady who was much

deceived. Of that embrace Igerne conceived the good, the valiant,

and the trusty king whom you have known as Arthur. Thus was Arthur

begotten, who was so renowned and chivalrous a lord.

Now the king's men learned very speedily that Uther had departed from

the host. The captains were wearied of sitting before the castle. To

return the more quickly to their homes, they got into their harness

and seized their arms. They did not tarry to order the battle, or make

ready ladders for the wall, but they approached the tower in their

disarray. The king's men assaulted the castle from every side, and the

earl defended himself manfully, but at the last he himself was slain,

and the castle was swiftly taken. Those who were fortunate enough to

escape from the tower fled lightfoot to Tintagel. There they published

the news of this misadventure, and the death of their lord. The sorrow

and lamentation of those who bewailed the earl's death reached the

ears of the king. He came forth from his chamber, and rebuked the

messengers of evil tidings. "Why all this noise and coil?" cried he "I

am safe and sound, thank God, as you may see by looking on my face.

These tidings are not true, and you must neither believe all that the

messengers proclaim, nor deem that they tell naught but lies. The

cause is plain why my household think me lost. I came out from the

castle taking leave and speaking to no man. None knew that I went

secretly through the postern, nor that I rode to you at Tintagel, for

I feared treachery upon the way. Now men cry and clamour of my death,

because I was not seen when the king won within the tower. Doubtless

it is a grievous thing to have lost my keep, and to know that so many

goodly spearmen lie dead behind the walls. But whilst I live, my goods

at least are my own. I will go forth to the king, requiring a peace,

which he will gladly accord me. I will go at once, before he may come

to Tintagel, seeking to do us mischief, for if he falls upon us in

this trap we shall pipe to deaf ears."

Igerne praised the counsel of him she deemed her lord. The king

embraced her by reason of her tenderness, and kissed her as he bade

farewell. He departed straightway from the castle, and his familiars

with him. When they had ridden for a while upon the road, Merlin again

put forth his enchantments, so that he, the king, and Ulfin took their

own shapes, and became as they had been before. They hastened to the

host without drawing rein, for the king was with child to know how the

castle was so swiftly taken, and in what manner the earl was slain. He

commanded before him his captains, and from this man and that sought

to arrive at the truth. Uther considered the adventure, and took his

lords to witness that whoever had done the earl to death, had done not

according to his will. He called to mind Earl Gorlois' noble deeds,

and made complaint of his servants, looking upon the barons very

evilly. He wore the semblance of a man in sore trouble, but there were

few who were so simple as to believe him. Uther returned with his host

before Tintagel. He cried to those who stood upon the wall asking why

they purposed to defend the tower, since their lord was dead and his

castle taken, neither could they look for succour in the realm, or

from across the sea. The castellans knew that the king spake sooth,

and that for them there was no hope of aid. They therefore set open

the gates of the castle, and gave the fortress and its keys into

the king's hand. Uther, whose love was passing hot, spoused Igerne

forthwith, and made her his queen. She was with child, and when her

time was come to be delivered, she brought forth a son. This son was

named Arthur, with the rumour of whose praise the whole world has been

filled. After the birth of Arthur, Uther got upon Igerne a daughter

cleped Anna. When this maiden came of age she was bestowed upon a

right courteous lord, called Lot of Lyones. Of this marriage was born

Gawain, the stout knight and noble champion.

Uther reigned for a long time in health and peace. Then he fell into a

great sickness, failing alike in mind and strength. His infirmity lay

so sore upon him, that he might not get him from his bed. The warders,

who watched over his prison in London, were passing weary of their

long guard, and were corrupted also by fair promises that were made.

They took rich gifts from Octa, that was Hengist's son, and from Ossa,

his cousin, and delivering them out of their bonds, let them go free

from their dungeon. Octa and Ossa returned swiftly to their own place.

They purchased war galleys to themselves, and gathering their men

about them menaced Uther very grievously. With a great company

of knights, and spearmen, and archers they passed the marches of

Scotland, burning and spoiling all the realm. Since Uther was sick,

and could do little to defend his life and land, he called Lot, the

husband of his daughter, to his aid. To this lord he committed the

guidance of his host, and appointed him constable of his knights. He

commanded these that they should hearken Lot as himself, and observe

all his biddings. This Uther did because he knew Lot for a courteous

and liberal lord, cunning in counsel, and mighty with the spear.

Now Octa vexed the Britons very sorely. He boasted himself greatly, by

reason of the number of his folk, and of the kings weakness. To avenge

his father's death and his own wrongs, he made Britain fearful of his

name; for he neither granted truce nor kept faith. Lot met Octa once

and again in battle. Many a time he vanquished his foe, but often

enough the victory remained with Octa. The game of war is like a game

of tables. Each must lose in his turn, and the player who wins to-day

will fail to-morrow. At the end Octa was discomfited, and was driven

from the country. But it afterwards befell that the Britons despised

Lot. They would pay no heed to his summons, this man for reason of

jealousy, this other because of the sharing of the spoil. The war,

therefore, came never to an end, till the king himself perceived that

something was amiss, whilst the folk of the country said openly that

the captains were but carpet knights, who made pretence of war. At

this certain men of repute came before the king, praying him to

remain no longer hidden from his people. "Come what may," said these

counsellors, "you must get to the host, and show yourself to the

barons." The king took them at their word. He caused himself to be set

within a horse litter, and carried, as though in a bier, amongst his

people. "Now we shall see," said these, "which of these recreant lords

will follow him to the host." The king sent urgent messages to the

knights who were so disdainful of Lot, summoning them on their

allegiance to hasten to his aid. For himself he was carried straight

to Verulam.[1] This once was a fair city where St. Alban fell upon his

death, but was now altogether ravaged and destroyed of the heathen.

Octa had led his people to the city, and seized thereon, making fast

the gates. The king sat down without the town. He caused great engines

to be arrayed to break through the wall, but it was very strong, and

he might make no breach. Octa and his friends made merry over the

catapults set over against them. On a morning they opened wide their

gates, and came forth to do battle with the king. A vile matter it

seemed to them that the door should be locked and barred because of

a king lying sick within a litter. They could not endure to be so

despised that he should fight against them from his coffin. As I deem

their pride went before a fall. That captain won who was deserving of

the victory. The heathen were defeated, and in that battle Octa and

his fair cousin Ossa were slain.

[Footnote 1: St. Albans.]

Many who escaped from the field fled into Scotland. There they made

Colgrin their chieftain, who was a friend of Octa and his cousin.

Uther rejoiced so greatly by reason of his victory, and of the honour

God had shown him, that for sheer joy he was as a man healed and

altogether whole. He set himself to hearten his barons, and inspire

them with his own courage. He said to his men, with mirth, "I like

rather to be on my bier, languishing in long infirmity, than to use

health and strength in fleeing from my foe. The Saxons disdained me,

holding me in despite because I cannot rise from my bed; but it has

befallen that he who hath one foot in the grave hath overthrown the

quick. Forward then, and press hardly on their heels who seek to

destroy our religion from the land."

When the king had rested him for a space, and had encouraged the lords

with his words, he would have followed after the heathen. Seeing that

his sickness was yet heavy upon him, the barons prayed that he would

sojourn awhile in the city, until it pleased God to give him solace

from his hurt. This they said fearing lest his courage should bring

him to his death. It chanced, therefore, that the host departed,

leaving Uther at Verulam, because of his infirmity, none being with

him, save the folk of his private household. Now the Saxons who were

driven from the land, when they had drawn together, considered within

themselves that if the king were but dead, he had no heir who might do

them a mischief, and despoil them of their goods. Since they had no

trust in their weapons, doubting that they could slay him with the

sword, they devised to murder the king by craft and poison. They

suborned certain evil-doers, whose names I do not know, by promises

of pennies and of land. These men they conveyed to the king's court,

arrayed in ragged raiment, the better to spy in what fashion

they might draw near his person and carry out their purpose. The

malefactors came to Verulam, but for all their cunning and craft of

tongues, in no way could they win anigh the king. They went to and fro

so often; they listened to the servitors' talk so readily; that in the

end they knew that the king drank nothing but cold water, that other

liquor never passed his lips. This water was grateful to his sickness.

It sprang from a well very near his hall, and of this water he drank

freely, for none other was to his mind. When these privy murderers

were persuaded that they might never come so close to the king's body

as to slay him with a knife, they sowed their poison in the well. They

lurked secretly about the country, until it came to their ears when

and how he died, and then fled incontinent whence they came. Presently

the king was athirst, and called for drink. His cupbearer gave him

water, laced with venom, from the spring. Uther drank of the cup, and

was infected by the plague, so that there was no comfort for him save

in death. His body swelled, becoming foul and black, and very soon

he died. Right quickly all those who drank of the water from that

fountain died of the death from which their lord lay dead. After this

thing became known, and the malice of these evil-doers was made clear,

the burgesses of the city met together, and choked the well for

evermore. They cast therein so much earth, that a pyre stood above

the source, as a witness to this deed. Uther the king having fallen

asleep, his body was borne to Stonehenge, and laid to rest close by

Aurelius, his brother; the brethren lying side by side. The bishops

and barons of the realm gathered themselves together, and sent

messages to Arthur, Uther's son, bidding him to Cirencester to be made

their king. Arthur at the time of his coronation was a damoiseau of

some fifteen years, but tall and strong for his age. His faults and

virtues I will show you alike, for I have no desire to lead you astray

with words. He was a very virtuous knight, right worthy of praise,

whose fame was much in the mouths of men. To the haughty he was proud,

but tender and pitiful to the simple. He was a stout knight and a

bold: a passing crafty captain, as indeed was but just, for skill and

courage were his servants at need: and large of his giving. He was

one of Love's lovers; a lover also of glory; and his famous deeds are

right fit to be kept in remembrance. He ordained the courtesies of

courts, and observed high state in a very splendid fashion. So long as

he lived and reigned he stood head and shoulders above all princes

of the earth, both for courtesy and prowess, as for valour and

liberality. When this Arthur was freshly crowned king, of his own free

will he swore an oath that never should the Saxons have peace or rest

so long as they tarried in his realm. This he did by reason that for

a great while they had troubled the land, and had done his father and

his uncle to their deaths. Arthur called his meinie to his aid. He

brought together a fair company of warriors, bestowing on them largely

of his bounty, and promising to grant largely of the spoil. With this

host he hastened into the land that lay about York, Colgrin--who was

the chief and captain of these Saxons since the slaying of Octa--had

many Picts and Scots in his fellowship, besides a goodly company of

his own people. He desired nothing more hotly than to meet Arthur in

battle, and to abate his pride. The armies drew together upon the

banks of the Douglas. The two hosts fell one upon the other furiously,

and many a sergeant perished that day, by reason of lance thrust, or

quarrel, or dart. At the end Colgrin was discomfited, and fled from

the field. Arthur followed swiftly after, striving to come upon his

adversary, before he might hide him in York. But Colgrin, for all his

pains, took refuge in the city; so Arthur sat him down without the

walls.

Now Baldulph, the brother of Colgrin, tamed by the shore, awaiting the

coming of Cheldric, the king, and his Saxons from Germany. When he

heard the tidings of what had befallen Colgrin at the Ford of Douglas,

and of how he was holden straitly by Arthur in York, he was passing

heavy and sorrowful, for with this Colgrin was all his hope. Baldulph

made no further tarrying for Cheldric. He broke up his camp, and

marching towards York, set his comrades in ambush, within a deep

wood, some five miles from the host. Together with the folk of his

household, and the strangers of his fellowship, Baldulph had in his

company six thousand men in mail. He trusted to fall upon Arthur by

night, when he was unready, and force him to give over the siege. But

certain of the country who had spied Baldulph spread this snare, ran

to the king, and showed him of the matter. Arthur, knowing of the

malice of Baldulph, took counsel with Cador, Earl of Cornwall, a brave

captain, who had no fear of death. He delivered to the earl's care

seven hundred horsemen, and of spearmen three thousand, and sent him

secretly to fall upon Baldulph in his lurking place. Cador did the

king's bidding. The Saxons heard no rumour of his coming, for the host

drew to the wood privily without trumpet or battle cry. Then when

Cador was near the foe, he cried his name, and burst fiercely upon the

heathen with the sword. In this combat there perished of the Saxons

more than three thousand men. Had it not been for the darkness of the

night, and the hindrance of the wood, not one might have fled on his

feet. Baldulph, the cunning captain, got him safely from the field, by

hiding beneath every bush and brake. He had lost the fairer and the

stronger half of his meinie, and was at his wits' end to know how to

take counsel with his brother, or to come to his aid. But speak with

him he would, so that craft and courage might find a way. Baldulph

devised to seek the besiegers' camp in the guise of a jongleur. He

arrayed himself in all points as a harper, for he knew well how to

chant songs and lays, and to touch the strings tunably. For his

brother's sake he made himself as a fool. He shaved off one half of

his beard and moustache, and caused the half of his head to be polled

likewise. He hung a harp about his neck, and showed in every respect

as a lewd fellow and a jester. Baldulph presently went forth from his

abode, being known again of none. He went to and fro harping on his

harp, till he stood beneath the walls of the city. The warders on the

towers hearkened to his speech, so that they drew him up by cords upon

the wall. At Baldulph's tale the folk within the city despaired of

succour, and knew not how to flee, nor where to escape. In their

extremity the news was bruited amongst them that Cheldric had come to

a haven in Scotland, with a fleet of five hundred galleys, and was

speeding to York. Cheldric knew and was persuaded that Arthur dared

not abide his onset. This was a right judgment, for Arthur made haste

to begone. The king called a council of his captains, and by their

rede decided not to await Cheldric at York, neither to give him

battle, because of the proud and marvellous host that was with him,

"Let the king fall back upon London," said the lords, "and summon

his meinie about him. The king's power will increase daily, and if

Cheldric have the hardihood to follow, with the more confidence we

shall fight." Arthur took his captains at their word. He let well the

siege, and came to London, that he might strengthen his castle, choose

his own battle ground, and trouble his adversary the more surely.

Arthur, by the rede of his counsellors, sent letters to his nephew,

the son of his sister, Hoel, King of Little Britain. For in that

country dwelt many strong barons, sib to his flesh, and the stoutest

knights of his race. In these letters, and by the mouth of his

ambassadors, Arthur prayed the king to hasten to his rescue. If Hoel

came not swiftly over sea--wrote the king--certainly his realm would

be taken from him, and shame would always be on those who watched

tamely their cousin stripped of his heritage.

When this bitter cry came to Hoel he sought neither hindrance nor

excuse. His vassals and kinsmen got in their harness forthwith. They

arrayed their ships, and set thereon the stores. Within these ships

there entered twelve thousand knights alone, without taking count of

the sergeants and archers. So in a good hour they crossed the sea,

coming with a fair wind to the port of Southampton. Arthur welcomed

them with great joy, showing them the honour which it became him to

offer. They made no long tarrying at Southampton, nor wasted the day

in fair words and idle courtesies. The king had summoned his vassals,

and had brought together his household. Without speeches and blowings

of trumpets the two hosts set forth together towards Lincoln, which

Cheldric had besieged but had not yet taken. Arthur came swiftly and

secretly upon Cheldric. He fell silently upon the Saxons, making no

stir with horns and clarions. King Arthur and his men slew so many in

so grim and stark a fashion, that never was seen such slaughter, such

sorrow and destruction, as they made of the Saxons in one single day.

The Saxons thought only of flight. They stripped off their armour to

run the more lightly, and abandoned their horses on the field

Some fled to the mountains, others by the valleys, and many flung

themselves into the river, and were drowned miserably, striving to get

them from their foe. The Britons followed hotly at their heels, giving

the quarry neither rest nor peace. They struck many a mighty blow with

the sword, on the heads, the necks, and bodies of their adversaries.

The chase endured from Lincoln town to the wood of Cehdon. The Saxons

took refuge within the thick forest, and drew together the remnants of

their power. For their part, the Britons watched the wood, and held

it very strictly. Now Arthur feared lest the Saxons should steal

from their coverts by night, and escape from his hand. He commanded,

therefore, his meinie to cut down the trees on the skirts of the

forest. These trunks he placed one upon another, lacing the branches

fast together, and enclosing his foe. Then he sat down on the further

side of his barrier, so that none might issue forth, nor enter in.

Those within the wood were altogether dismayed, since they might

neither eat nor drink. There was no man so cunning or strong, so rich

or valiant, who could devise to carry bread and wine, flesh and flour,

for their sustenance. Three days they endured without food, till Thur

bodies were weak with hunger. Since they would not die of famine, and

might not win forth from the wood by arms, they took counsel as to

what it were well to do. They approached Arthur, praying him to keep

raiment and harness and all that they had, saving only their ships,

and let them depart to their own land. They promised to put hostages

in his power, and render a yearly tribute of their wealth, so only the

king allowed them to go on foot to the shore, and enter naked in the

ships. Arthur set faith in their word. He gave them leave to depart,

receiving hostages for assurance of their covenant. He rendered them

the ships, but kept their armour as a spoil, so that they left the

realm without a mantle to their bodies, or a sword for their defence.

The Saxons set out across the water, until their sails were lost to

sight. I know not what was their hope, nor the name of him who put it

in their mind, but they turned their boats, and passed through the

channel between England and Normandy. With sail and oar they came to

the land of Devon, casting anchor in the haven of Totnes. The heathen

breathed out threatenings and slaughter against the folk of the

country. They poured forth from their ships, and scattered themselves

abroad amongst the people, searching out arms and raiment, firing

homesteads and slaying Christian men. They passed to and fro about the

country, carrying off all they found beneath their hands. Not only did

they rob the hind of his weapon, but they slew him on his hearth with

his own knife. Thus throughout Somerset and a great part of Dorset,

these pirates spoiled and ravaged at their pleasure, finding none to

hinder them at their task. For the barons who might have made head

against them were in Scotland with the king. So by road and country,

laden with raiment and all manner of spoil, the Saxons came from their

ships to Bath. But the citizens of the town shut fast their gates, and

defended the walls against them.

Arthur was in Scotland, punishing the folk of that realm, because

of the war they had made upon him, and of the aid they had afforded

Cheldric. When the king learned what mischief the pagans had done to

his land, and of the siege they laid to Bath, he hanged his hostages

straightway. He dared tarry no longer in Scotland, but hastened south,

leaving Hoel of Brittany lying sick at Dumbarton, I know not of what

infirmity. With what men he might, Arthur came to Bath as swiftly as

he was able, since he was resolved to chase the Saxons from before the

gates, and succour the burgesses of his city. Now, near this town a

wood stands within a wide country, and there Arthur arranged his men

and ordered the battle. He saw to the arming of his meinie, and for

himself got him into his harness. Arthur donned thigh pieces of steel,

wrought strong and fairly by some cunning smith. His hauberk was stout

and richly chased, even such a vesture as became so puissant a king.

He girt him with his sword, Excalibur. Mighty was the glaive, and

long in the blade. It was forged in the Isle of Avalon, and he who

brandished it naked in his hand deemed himself a happy man. His helmet

gleamed upon his head. The nasal was of gold; circlets of gold adorned

the headpiece, with many a clear stone, and a dragon was fashioned for

its crest. This helm had once been worn by Uther, his sire. The king

was mounted on a destrier, passing fair, strong, and speedy, loving

well the battle. He had set his shield about his neck, and, certes,

showed a stout champion, and a right crafty captain. On the buckler

was painted in sweet colours the image of Our Lady St. Mary. In her

honour and for remembrance, Arthur bore her semblance on his shield.

In his hand the king carried his lance, named Ron. Sharp it was at

the head, tough and great, and very welcome at need in the press of

battle. Arthur gave his commands to his captains, and ordained the

order of the combat. He caused his host to march in rank and company

at a slow pace towards the foe, so that when the battle was joined

none might flinch but that he was sustained of his comrades. The host

drew near to a certain mountain of those parts, and began to climb the

hill. The Saxons held this mountain strongly, and defended the height,

as though they were shut fast and safely behind walls. Small cause had

the heathen for such assurance of safety, for a mighty captain was

upon them, who would not endure their presence in his realm. Arthur

led his spearmen upon the slope, and there admonished his men.

"Behold," said he, "and see before you those false and scornful

heathen, who have destroyed and ravished your kith and kin, your near

ones and neighbours, and on your own goods and bodies have done so

much mischief. Avenge now your friends and your kinsfolk; avenge the

great ruin and burnings; avenge all the loss and the travail that for

so long a space we have suffered at their hands. For myself this day

I will avenge me for all these bitter wrongs. I will avenge the oaths

these perjurers have broken. I will silence the crying of my fathers'

blood. This day I will exact the price for all they have cost me in

loss and in sorrows, and avenge the bad faith which led them to return

to Totnes. If but this day we bear us in the battle like men, and

smite the heathen in their fastness, never again will they array

themselves proudly against us, but will be for ever before us as naked

men without a shield." With these words Arthur set his buckler before

him, and hastened to the playing of the swords. I know not the name

of the Saxon who ran upon him in the stour, but the king smote him so

fiercely that he died. Before Arthur passed across the body he cried

aloud, "God aid, Saint Mary succour. He gives twice," said he, gaily,

"who gives quickly. Here lies one whose lodging for the night I have

paid." When the Britons saw this deed they aided the king mightily,

beating down and slaying the Saxons very grievously. They pressed upon

them from every side, thrusting shrewdly with the spear, and striking

lustily with the sword. Arthur was of marvellous hardihood. Strong

beyond the common strength and of great prowess, with lifted shield

and terrible sword he hewed a path towards the summit of the mount. He

struck to right and to left, slaying many, so that the press gave back

before so stout a champion. To himself alone he slew four hundred

heathen that day, working them more mischief than was done by all his

men. To an evil end came the captains of these Saxons. Baldulph lay

dead upon the mount, and dead also was Colgrin. Cheldric and some

others fled from the field, and would have got them to their ships

that they might enter therein and garnish for their needs.

When Arthur heard tidings of Cheldric's flight, and that he sought

again his ships, he bade Cador of Cornwall to follow swiftly after the

fugitives, giving ten thousand horsemen to his keeping chosen from his

best and closest friends. For his part, Arthur himself turned his face

to Scotland; for a messenger came who told that the wild Scots held

Hoel close within his city, and for a little would take him where he

lay. Cheldric made in all haste to his ships, but Cador was a crafty

captain, and by a way that he knew well he rode swiftly to Totnes,

before Cheldric might come to the town. He seized the galleys, manning

them with archers and country folk, and then hastened hotly on the

track of the fugitives. Two by two, and three by three, these drew

near the shore, as best they might hide them from the pursuers. To go

the more lightly, to run the more nimbly, they had thrown away their

harness, and carried nothing save their swords. They pained themselves

to get to the ships, deeming that if they might enter therein their

troubles would be at an end. As they strove to ford the river Teign,

Cador, the huntsman, came winding upon their slot. The Saxons were

dismayed beyond measure, and without stay or delay fled from their

foe. Cador lighted upon Cheldric in the steep mountain, called

Tenedic, and slew him in that place. As Cador came on Cheldric's

companions he killed them with the sword, in sore sorrow. For those

who escaped from Cador they made their way from every part to the

ships. There they were slain by the archers, or perished miserably in

the sea. The Britons took no captives, he who cried for mercy perished

alike with him who strove with his sword. The rest of the Saxons fled

to the coverts of the woods and the mountains, by large companies. In

such desolate and waste places they lurked and hid from their enemies

until hunger and thirst put a term to their miseries.

When Cador had made an end of his slaying, and given quiet to the

land, he followed after Arthur, and took the road towards Scotland. He

came upon the king at Dumbarton, where he had brought succour to

his nephew, Hoel of Brittany. Arthur found Hoel safe in body and in

wealth, and altogether whole of his infirmity. The Scots had departed

from before the city when they heard that Arthur drew near, and

hastening to Murray, made strong the towers, and set barriers at the

gates. This they did because they were resolved to await Arthur in the

city, thinking to hold themselves against him behind the walls. Arthur

knew well that the Scots were gathered together to make head against

him in that place. He came therefore to Murray with all his power, but

they dared not abide his coming, and for dread fled to Lake Lomond,

scattering themselves abroad amongst the isles thereof. Passing wide

and deep is this fair mere. From the hills and valleys round about

sixty rivers fall therein, and making together one sweet water, pass

swiftly by a single river to the sea. Sixty islands lie upon this

water, the haunt and home of innumerable birds. Each island holds an

eyrie, where none but eagles repair to build their nests, to cry and

fight together, and take their solace from the world. When evil folk

arrive to raven and devour the realm, then all these eagles gather

themselves together, making great coil and clamour, and arraying

themselves proudly one against another. One day, or two days, three or

four, the mighty birds will strive together; and the interpretation

thereof portends horror and grim destruction amongst men.

On this fair lake the Scots sought hiding, going and coming upon its

waters Arthur followed swiftly after. He caused to be made shallops,

barges, and light, speedy boats, and harassed them grievously in their

refuge. By reason of famine and the sword, they died by twenties, by

hundreds, and by thousands in those secret ways.

Now Guillomer, a certain king from Ireland, wishful to aid the Scots

in this quarrel, drew towards Arthur with his host. Arthur went his

way to give him battle. When the battle was joined the Irish king was

discomfited anon. He and his men fled to their ships, getting them

back to Ireland, and Arthur came again to the mere, where he had left

his harrying of the Scots.

Then the bishops and abbots of the realm, with divers monks and other

orders, carrying in their hands bodies of the saints and many holy

relics, came before the king beseeching him to show mercy on the

Scots. With these went a pitiful company of ladies of that country,

naked of foot, spoiled of visage, with streaming hair and rent

raiment, bearing their babes in their bosoms. These with tears and

shrill lamentations fell at Arthur's knees right humbly, weeping,

clamouring, and imploring his grace. "Sire, gentle king, have mercy

and pity," cried these lamentable women, "on this wasted land, and on

those wretched men who are dying of hunger and misery. If thou hast no

bowels of pity for the fathers, look, sire, and behold these babes

and these mothers; regard their sons and their daughters, and all

the distressful folk thou art bringing down to death. Give again the

fathers to the little children, restore to the ladies their husbands,

and to this sad company of damsels return their brothers and their

lords. Have we not paid enough by reason of the Saxon passing this

way? It was not for our pleasure they sojourned awhile in the land. We

went the more heavily for their presence, for much pain and sorrow we

suffered because of the heathen, and passing weary were we of their

speech. If we sheltered them in our houses, the greater sorrow is

ours, since we have endured the more at their hands. Our beasts they

have slain and eaten; and for our goods, these they have taken, and

sent the gear into their own realm. There was none to help us, nor

was any man so strong as to deliver us from their power. Sire, if we

prepared them a feast, it was because we feared to drink their wine

cup to the dregs. Might was theirs, and we were as the captive who

sees no succour on the road. These Saxons were pagan men. Thy servants

are Christians. Therefore the heathen oppressed us the more mightily,

and laid the heavier burdens upon us. But great as was the mischief

these Saxons wrought us, thou hast done us the sorer harm. Theirs

were the whips, but thine are the stinging scorpions. It should prove

little honour to the Christian king that he slay by hunger amongst

these rocks those folk who cry his pardon for their trespass. We die,

sire, of famine and of all misease. Nothing is left us save cold and

wretchedness. Thou hast overcome us, every one; destroy us not from

the land, but suffer us to live of thy bounty. Grant that we and all

our race--so it be thy pleasure--may find peace in the king's service.

Have mercy on thy poor Christians. We hold the faith that you, too,

count dear. How foully then should Christianity be wronged, if you

destroy the whole realm. Alas, has not mischief enough been wrought

already!" Arthur was tender of heart and marvellously pitiful. He took

compassion on this doleful company of ladies, and by reason of those

holy bodies of the saints and those fair prelates, he granted life and

member to his captives, and forgave them their debts.

The Scots, having done homage to the king and owned themselves his

men, departed, and went their way. Hoel gazed long upon the mere,

calling to him the folk of his house. He wondered exceedingly because

of the grandeur of the lake, and because of the greatness of the

water. He marvelled altogether to behold so many islands therein, and

at the rocks thereof. He was astonied beyond measure at the number of

the eagles and their eyries, at the clamour and the shrilling of

their cries. He deemed in his heart that never had he gazed upon so

beautiful a sight. "Hoel, fair nephew," said Arthur, "very marvellous

this water seems in your eyes. Your astonishment will be the more when

you look upon yet another mere that I know. Near this lake, in this

very country, lies a water held in a cup, not round but square. This

pond is twenty feet in length, twenty in breadth, and the water

thereof is five feet deep. In the four corners of this pond are many

fish of divers fashions. These fish pass never from their corner to

another. Yet none can certify by touch or sight whether craft keeps

these fish each in his place, or what is that hindrance they may not

overcome. Yea, I cannot tell whether the pond was digged by the wit of

man, or if Nature shaped it to her will. Moreover I know of another

mere, whereof you would be more amazed than of both these marvels.

This lake is close by the Severn in the land of Wales. The sea pours

its tide into this lake; yet empty itself as it may, the waters of the

lake remain ever at the same height, never more and never less. The

ocean itself may not suffice to heap its waters above the lake,

neither to cover its shores. Yet at the ebbing of the tide, when the

sea turns to flee, then the lake spues forth the water it has taken to

its belly, so that the banks are swallowed up, the great waves rise

tall in their wrath, and the wide fields round about are hid, and all

is sodden with the foam. The folk of that country tell that should a

man stare upon the wave in its anger, so that his vesture and body be

wetted of the spray, then, whatever be his strength, the water will

draw him to itself, for it is mightier than he. Many a man has

struggled and fallen on the brink, and been drowned in its clutch. But

if a man turn his back upon the water, then he may stand safely upon

the bank, taking his pleasure as long as he will. The wave will pass

by him, doing him no mischief; he will not be wetted even of the

flying foam." So Hoel marvelled greatly at these wonders told him by

the king. Then Arthur bade sound his horns, his clarions and trumpets

to call his meinie to himself. He granted leave to all but the folk of

his privy household to return to their homes. The host went therefore

each to his own place, loudly praising the king. Even in Brittany men

told that there was no more valiant captain than he.

Arthur turned south to York, abiding there till Christmas was past. He

kept the Feast of the Nativity within its walls. He marked clearly the

weakness and impoverishment of the city, and how deeply it was fallen

from its former state. The churches were empty and silent; whilst for

the houses they were either breached or fallen to the ground. The

king appointed Pyramus, a learned clerk who had been diligent in his

service, to the vacant see, so that the chapels might be maintained,

and those convents built anew which the heathen had destroyed. Arthur

commanded that the criers should proclaim that all honest folk must

return to their toil. He sent messages to every place, bidding those

who were dispossessed of their lands to repair to his court. There he

gave them again their heritage, and confirmed them in their fiefs and

rents. Now there were three brethren of right good birth and high

peerage, kin to many a fair family, having to name Lot, Aguisel,

and Urian. The forefather of these lords was the earl of that great

country beyond the Humber; and these in their turn held justly their

father's lands, doing wrong to none. Arthur rendered these brothers

their own, and restored them their heritage. On Urian, as head of his

house, Arthur bestowed the province of Murray, and without fee or

recompense proclaimed him king of that realm. Scotland was given to

Aguisel, who claimed it as his fief. As for Lot, who had the king's

sister to wife, Arthur confirmed him in that kingdom of Lyones, which

he had held for a great while, and gave him many another earldom

besides. This Lot was the father of Gawain, who as yet was a

damoiseau, young and debonair.

When Arthur had settled his realm in peace, righted all wrongs, and

restored the kingdom to its ancient borders, he took to wife a certain

fresh and noble maiden, named Guenevere, making her his queen. This

damsel was passing fair of face and courteous, very gracious of

manner, and come of a noble Roman house. Cador had nourished this lady

long and richly in his earldom of Cornwall. The maiden was the

earl's near cousin, for by his mother he, too, was of Roman blood.

Marvellously dainty was the maiden in person and vesture; right

queenly of bearing, passing sweet and ready of tongue. Arthur

cherished her dearly, for his love was wonderfully set upon the

damsel, yet never had they a child together, nor betwixt them might

get an heir.

As soon as winter was gone, and the warm days were come when it was

good to wend upon the sea, Arthur made ready his ships to cross the

straits to Ireland and conquer the land. Arthur made no long tarrying.

He brought together the most lusty warriors of his realm, both poor

and rich, all of the people who were most vigorous and apt in war.

With these he passed into Ireland, and sent about the country seeking

provand for his host. So the sergeants took seisin of cows and oxen,

and brought to the camp in droves all that was desirable for meat.

Guillomer, the king of that realm, heard that Arthur had fastened

this quarrel upon him. He hearkened to the cries and the tidings, the

plaints and the burdens, raised by those villeins whose granges and

bields were pillaged for the sustenance of his foes. Guillomer went

forth to give battle to Arthur, but in an ill hour he drew to the

field. His men were naked to their adversaries, having neither helmets

nor coats of leather nor shields. They knew nothing of archery, and

were ignorant of catapults and slings. The Britons were mighty bowmen.

They shot their shafts thickly amongst their enemies, so that the

Irish dared not show their bodies, and might find no shelter. The

Irish could endure the arrows no longer. They fled from the fight,

taking refuge where they were able. They hid in woods and thickets, in

towns and in houses, seeking refuge from the stour. Right grievous was

their discomfiture. Guillomer, their king, sought shelter within a

forest, but his fate was upon him, and he might not conceal him from

his foes. Arthur searched him out so diligently, following so hotly on

his track, that at the last he was taken captive. Guillomer did very

wisely. He paid fealty and homage to Arthur, and owned that of him he

held his heritage. Moreover he put hostages within Arthur's power, for

surety that he would render a yearly tribute to the king. When Arthur

had subdued Ireland, he went further and came even so far as Iceland.

He brought the land in subjection to himself, so that the folk thereof

owned themselves his men, and granted him the lordship. Now three

princes, by name Gonfal, King of the Orkneys, Doldamer, King of

Gothland, and Romarec, King of Finland, heard the rumour of these

deeds. They sent spies to Iceland, and learned from their messengers

that Arthur was making ready his host to pass the sea, and despoil

them of their realms. In all the world--said these messengers--there

was no such champion, nor so crafty a captain in the ordering of war.

These three kings feared mightily in case Arthur should descend upon

them, and waste their land. Lest a worse thing should befall them,

with no compulsion and of their own free wills, they set forth for

Iceland and came humbly before the king. They gave of their substance

rich gifts and offerings, and kneeling before Arthur did him fealty,

putting their countries between his hands, and proclaiming themselves

his men. They owned that of grace they held their inheritance, they

swore to render tribute to his treasury, and gave hostages for

assurance of their covenant. So they departed in peace to their own

place. For his part Arthur came again to his ships. He returned to

England, where he was welcomed of his people with marvellous joy.

Twelve years he abode in his realm in peace and content, since none

was so bold as to do him a mischief, and he did mischief to none.

Arthur held high state in a very splendid fashion. He ordained the

courtesies of courts, and bore himself with so rich and noble a

bearing, that neither the emperor's court at Rome, nor any other

bragged of by man, was accounted as aught besides that of the king.

Arthur never heard speak of a knight in praise, but he caused him to

be numbered of his household. So that he might he took him to himself,

for help in time of need. Because of these noble lords about his hall,

of whom each knight pained himself to be the hardiest champion, and

none would count him the least praiseworthy, Arthur made the Round

Table, so reputed of the Britons. This Round Table was ordained of

Arthur that when his fair fellowship sat to meat their chairs should

be high alike, their service equal, and none before or after his

comrade. Thus no man could boast that he was exalted above his fellow,

for all alike were gathered round the board, and none was alien at

the breaking of Arthur's bread. At this table sat Britons, Frenchmen,

Normans, Angevins, Flemings, Burgundians, and Loherins. Knights had

their plate who held land of the king, from the furthest marches of

the west even unto the Hill of St. Bernard. A most discourteous lord

would he be deemed who sojourned not awhile in the king's hall, who

came not with the countenance, the harness, and the vesture that were

the garb and usage of those who served Arthur about his court. From

all the lands there voyaged to this court such knights as were in

quest either of gain or worship. Of these lords some drew near to hear

tell of Arthur's courtesies; others to marvel at the pride of his

state; these to have speech with the knights of his chivalry; and some

to receive of his largeness costly gifts. For this Arthur in his day

was loved right well of the poor, and honoured meetly by the rich.

Only the kings of the world bore him malice and envy, since they

doubted and feared exceedingly lest he should set his foot upon them

every one, and spoil them of their heritage.

I know not if you have heard tell the marvellous gestes and errant

deeds related so often of King Arthur. They have been noised about

this mighty realm for so great a space that the truth has turned to

fable and an idle song. Such rhymes are neither sheer bare lies, nor

gospel truths. They should not be considered either an idiot's tale,

or given by inspiration. The minstrel has sung his ballad, the

storyteller told over his story so frequently, little by little he

has decked and painted, till by reason of his embellishment the truth

stands hid in the trappings of a tale. Thus to make a delectable tune

to your ear, history goes masking as fable. Hear then how, because of

his valour, the counsel of his barons, and in the strength of that

mighty chivalry he had cherished and made splendid, Arthur purposed to

cross the sea and conquer the land of France. But first he deemed to

sail to Norway, since he would make Lot, his sister's lord, its king.

Sichelm, the King of Norway, was newly dead, leaving neither son nor

daughter of his body. In the days of his health, as alike when he fell

on death, Sichelm had appointed Lot to succeed him in his realm and

fief. The crown was Lot's by right, even as Sichelm proclaimed, since

Lot was the king's nephew, and there was no other heir. When the folk

of Norway learned that Sichelm had bequeathed his realm to Lot, they

held his command and ordinance in derision. They would have no alien

for their lord, nor suffer a stranger to meddle in their business,

lest he should deem them an ancient and feeble people, and give to

outland folk what was due to the dwellers in the realm. The Norwegians

resolved to make king one of their own house, that he might cherish

them and their children, and for this reason they chose from amongst

them a certain lord named Ridulph to be their king.

When Lot perceived that his right was despised, save that he took his

heritage by force, he sought help of Arthur, his lord. Arthur agreed

to aid him in his quarrel, promising to render him his own, and to

avenge him bitterly on Ridulph. Arthur gathered together many ships

and a mighty host. He entered into Norway with this great company,

wasting the land, seizing on the manors, and spoiling the towns.

Ridulph was no trembler, and had no thought to leave the country to

its fate. He assembled his people, and prepared to give battle to the

king. Since however his carles were not many, and his friends but few,

Ridulph was defeated in the fight and slain. The greater part of his

fellowship perished with him, so that no large number remained. In

this manner Lot the King of Lyones destroyed the Norwegians from the

land. Having delivered Norway from itself Arthur granted the kingdom

to Lot, so only that he did Arthur homage as his lord. Amongst the

barons who rode in this adventure was Gawain, the hardy and famous

knight, who had freshly come from St. Sulpicius the Apostle, whose

soul may God give rest and glory. The knight wore harness bestowed on

him by the Apostle, and wondrously was he praised. This Gawain was a

courteous champion, circumspect in word and deed, having no pride nor

blemish in him. He did more than his boast, and gave more largely

than he promised. His father had sent him to Rome, that he might be

schooled the more meetly. Gawain was dubbed knight in the same day as

Wavain, and counted himself of Arthur's household. Mightily he strove

to do his devoir in the field, for the fairer service and honour of

his lord.

After Arthur had conquered Norway, and firmly established his justice

in the land, he chose of his host those men who were the most valiant

and ready in battle, and assembled them by the sea. He brought to the

same haven many ships and barges, together with such mariners as were

needful for his purpose. When a quiet time was come, with a fortunate

wind, Arthur crossed the sea into Denmark; for the realm was very

greatly to his desire. Acil, the Danish king, considered the Britons

and the folk from Norway. He considered Arthur, who had prevailed

against so many kings. Acil knew and was persuaded that Arthur was

mightier than he. He had no mind to suffer hurt himself, or to see his

goodly heritage spoiled in a useless quarrel. What did it profit to

waste wealth and honour alike, to behold slain friends and ruined

towers? Acil wrought well and speedily. He sought peace, and ensued

it. He gave costly gifts, and made promises which were larger still,

till by reason of his words, his prayers, and supplications, concord

was established between Arthur and the king. Acil paid fealty and

homage, he became Arthur's man, and owned that of Arthur's grace he

held his fief. King Arthur rejoiced greatly at this adventure, and of

the conquest he had made. He desired honour the more greedily because

of the worship he had gained. From out of Denmark he chose, by

hundreds and by thousands, the stoutest knights and archers he could

find. These he joined to his host, purposing to lead this fair company

into France. Without any long tarrying the king acted on his purpose.

Towns, cities, and castles fell before him, so that Flanders and

the country about Boulogne were speedily in his power. Arthur was a

prudent captain. He perceived no profit in wasting his own realm,

burning his towns, and stealing from his very purse. His eyes were in

every place, and much was forbidden by his commandment. No soldier

might rob nor pill. If there was need of raiment, meat, or provand,

then must he buy with good minted coin in the market. Nothing he dared

to destroy or steal.

Now in Arthur's day the land of France was known as Gaul. The realm

had neither king nor master, for the Romans held it strongly as a

province. This province was committed to the charge of Frollo, and the

tribune had governed the country for a great space. He took rent and

tribute of the people, and in due season caused the treasure to be

delivered to the emperor at Rome. Thus had it been since the time of

Caesar, that mighty emperor, who brought into subjection France and

Germany, and all the land of Britain. Frollo was a very worthy lord,

come of a noble Roman race, fearful of none, however hardy. He knew

well, by divers letters, the loss and the mischief done by Arthur and

his host. Frollo had no mind tamely to watch the Romans lose their

heritage. The tribune summoned to his aid all the men abiding in the

province who carried arms and owned fealty to Rome. He assembled these

together, ordaining a great company, clad in harness and plenteously

supplied with stores. With these he went out to battle against Arthur,

but he prospered less than his merit deserved. The Roman tribune was

discomfited so grievously that he sought safety in flight. Of his

fellowship he had lost a great number. Many were slain outright in

battle, others were sorely wounded, or made captive, or returned

sorrowing to their own homes. Out of the meinie Frollo had gathered

from so many cities, more than two thousand were destroyed. This was

no great marvel, since the count of Arthur's host was more than Frollo

might endure. From every land he had subdued to himself, from every

city that was taken, Arthur saw to it that not a spearman nor knight

of fitting years and strength of body, but was numbered in the host,

and commanded to serve Arthur as his lord Of these outland folk,

Arthur chose a fair company of the hardiest knights and most proven

champions to be of his private household. The very French began to

regard him as their king, so only that they had the courage of their

minds. This man loved him for his wise and comely speech this by

reason of his liberal hand: this because of his noble and upright

spirit Whether men were driven to his presence by fear, or considered

him a refuge in the storm, all found cause enough to seek his court,

to make their peace, and to acknowledge him as their suzerain. Now

Frollo, after his discomfiture by the king, fled to Paris with all

the speed he might, making no stop upon the road. The tribune feared

Arthur and his power very sorely, and since he sought a fortress to

defend his person, he would not trust his fortune to any other city.

He resolved, therefore, to await Arthur within Paris, and to fight the

king beneath the walls Frollo called to himself such legions as were

yet in towns near by. Because of the number of the fugitives who were

come to that place, together with the burgesses abiding therein, a

great concourse of people filled the city. All these folk toiled

diligently to furnish the city with corn and meat, and to make sure

the walls and gates against their foes.

Arthur learned that Frollo was making strong his towers, and filling

the barns with victuals. He drew to Paris, and sat down without the

city. He lodged his men in the suburbs beyond the walls, holding the

town so close that food might not enter whether by the river or the

gates. Arthur shut the city fast for more than a month, since the

French defended them well and manfully. A mighty multitude was crowded

within the walls, and there was a plentiful lack of meat. All the

provand bought and gathered together in so short a space was quickly

eaten and consumed, and the folk were afterwards a-hungered. There was

little flesh, but many bellies; so that the women and children made

much sorrow Had the counsel of the poor been taken, right soon would

the keys of the city have been rendered. "Diva," clamoured the

famished citizens, "what doest thou, Frollo? Why requirest thou not

peace at Arthur's hand?" Frollo regarded the common people who failed

for famine. He looked upon the folk dying by reason of their hunger,

and knew that they would have him yield the city. Frollo perceived

that of a surety the end of all was come. The tribune chose to put

his own body in peril--yea, rather to taste of death, than to abandon

Paris to her leaguers. Frollo had full assurance of Arthur's rectitude

In the simplicity of his heart he sent urgent messages to the king,

praying him to enter in the Island, that body to body they might bring

their quarrel to an end. He who prevailed over his fellow, and came

living from the battle, should take the whole realm as his own and

receive all France for his guerdon. Thus the land would not perish,

nor the folk be utterly destroyed. Arthur hearkened willingly to the

heralds, for very greatly was their message to his mind. He accorded

that the battle should be between the two captains, even as Frollo

desired. Gauntlets were taken from one and the other, and hostages

given on behalf of Paris and on the part of the besiegers for better

assurance of the covenant that was made.

On the morrow the two champions arrayed them in harness, and coming to

the Island, entered boldly in the lists. The banks were filled with a

mighty concourse of people, making great tumult. Not a man or woman

remained that day in his chamber. They climbed upon the walls, and

thronged the roofs of the houses, crying upon God, and adjuring Him

by His holy Name to give victory to him who would guard the realm in

peace, and preserve the poor from war Arthur's meinie, for their part,

awaited the judgment of God, in praying the King of Glory to bestow

the prize and honour on their lord. The two champions were set over

against the other, laced each in his mail, and seated on his warhorse.

The strong destriers were held with bit and bridle, so eager were they

for the battle. The riders bestrode the steeds with lifted shields,

brandishing great lances in their hands. It was no easy matter to

perceive--however curiously men looked--which was the stouter knight,

or to judge who would be victor in the joust. Certainly each was a

very worthy lord and a right courageous champion. When all was made

ready the knights struck spurs to their steeds, and loosing the rein

upon the horses' necks, hurtled together with raised buckler and lance

in rest. They smote together with marvellous fierceness. Whether by

reason of the swerving of his destrier, I cannot tell, but Frollo

failed of his stroke Arthur, on his side, smote the boss of his

adversary's shield so fairly, that he bore him over his horse's

buttock, as long as the ash staff held Arthur drew forth his sword,

and hastened to Frollo to bring the battle to an end. Frollo climbed

stoutly on his feet. He held his lance before him like a rod, and the

king's steed ran upon the spear, so that it pierced deeply in his

body. Of this thrust the destrier and his rider alike came tumbling to

the ground. When the Britons saw this thing, they might not contain

themselves for grief. They cried aloud, and seizing their weapons, for

a little would have violated the love-day. They made ready to cross

the river to the Island, and to avenge their lord upon the Gauls.

Arthur cried loudly to his Britons to observe their covenant,

commanding that not a man should move to his help that day. He gripped

Excalibur sternly in his hand, resolving that Frollo should pay

dearly for his triumph. Arthur dressed his shield above his head, and

handselling his sword, rushed upon Frollo. Frollo was a passing good

knight, hardy and strong, in no whit dismayed by the anger of his

adversary. He raised his own glaive on high, striking fiercely at

Arthur's brow. Frollo was strong beyond the strength of man. His brand

was great and sharp, and the buffet was struck with all his power. The

blade sheared through helm and coif alike, so that King Arthur was

wounded in his forehead, and the blood ran down his face.

When Arthur felt the dolour of his hurt, and looked upon his blood, he

desired nothing, save to wreak evil on the man who had wrought this

mischief. He pressed the more closely upon Frollo. Lifting Excalibur,

his good sword, in both hands, he smote so lustily that Frollo's head

was cloven down to his very shoulders. No helmet nor hauberk, whatever

the armourer's craft, could have given surety from so mighty a blow.

Blood and brains gushed from the wound. Frollo fell upon the ground,

and beating the earth a little with his chausses of steel, presently

died, and was still.

When men saw this bitter stroke the burgesses and sergeants raised a

loud cry. Arthur's household rejoiced beyond measure; but those of

the city wept, making great sorrow for Frollo, their champion.

Nevertheless, the citizens of Paris ran to their gates. They set the

doors wide, and welcomed Arthur, his meinie, and company within their

walls. When Arthur perceived the French were desirous to offer him

their fealty, he suffered them so to do, taking hostages that they

would abide in peace. He lodged within the city certain days, and

appointed governors, for the assurance of his power. After quiet was

established, Arthur divided the host into two parts. The one of these

companies he delivered into the charge of Hoel, the king's nephew.

With the other half he devised to conquer Anjou, Auvergne, Gascony,

and Poitou; yea, to overrun Lorraine and Burgundy, if the task did

not prove beyond his power. Hoel did his lord's commandment, even as

Arthur purposed. He conquered Berri, and afterwards Touraine, Auvergne,

Poitou, and Gascony. Guitard, the King of Poitiers, was a valiant

captain, having good knights in his service. To uphold his realm and

his rights Guitard fought many a hard battle. The luck went this way

and that. Sometimes he was the hunter, sometimes the quarry: often he

prevailed, and often, again, he lost. At the end Guitard was persuaded

Arthur was the stronger lord, and that only by submission could he

keep his own. The land was utterly wasted and ravaged. Beyond the

walls of town and castle there was nothing left to destroy; and of all

the fair vineyards not a vine but was rooted from the ground. Guitard

made overtures of peace, and accorded himself with Hoel. He swore

Arthur fealty and homage, so that the king came to love him very

dearly. The other parcels of France Arthur conquered them every one by

his own power. When there was peace over all the country, so that none

dared lift a spear against the king, Arthur sought such men as were

grown old in his quarrels, and desired greatly to return to their

homes. To these feeble sergeants Arthur rendered their wages and

gifts, and sent them rejoicing from whence they had come. The knights

of his household, and such lusty youths as were desirous of honour,

having neither dame nor children to their hearths, Arthur held in his

service for yet nine years. During these nine years that Arthur abode

in France, he wrought divers great wonders, reproving many haughty

men and their tyrannies, and chastising many sinners after their

deservings. Now it befell that when Easter was come, Arthur held high

feast at Paris with his friends. On that day the king recompensed his

servants for their losses, and gave to each after his deserts. He

bestowed guerdon meetly on all, according to his zeal and the labour

he had done. To Kay, the master seneschal of his house, a loyal and

chivalrous knight, the king granted all Anjou and Angers. Bedevere,

the king's cupbearer and very privy counsellor, received that fief of

Normandy, which aforetime was called Neustria. These lords, Kay and

Bedevere, were Arthur's faithful friends, knowing the inmost counsel

of his mind. Boulogne was given to Holden: Le Mans to Borel, his

cousin. On each and all, according to his gentleness of heart and

diligence in his lord's service, Arthur bestowed honours and fees, and

granted largely of his lands.

After Arthur thus had feoffed his lords, and given riches to his

friends, in April, when winter was gone, he passed the sea to England,

his own realm. Marvellous joy was shown of all good folk at the return

of the king. Dames held those husbands close from whom they had been

parted so long. Mothers kissed their sons, with happy tears upon their

cheeks. Sons and daughters embraced their fathers. Cousin clipped

cousin, and neighbour that friend who once was his companion. The

aunt made much of her sister's son. Ladies kissed long that lover who

returned from France, yea, when the place was meet, clasped him yet

more sweetly in their arms. Wondrous was the joy shown of all. In

the lanes and crossways, in the highways and by-ways, you might see

friends a many staying friend, to know how it fared with him, how

the land was settled when it was won, what adventures chanced to the

seeker, what profit clave to him thereof, and why he remained so great

a while beyond the sea. Then the soldier fought his battles once

again. He told over his adventures, he spoke of his hard and weary

combats, of the toils he had endured, and the perils from which he was

delivered.

Arthur cherished tenderly his servants, granting largely, and

promising richly, to the worthy. He took counsel with his barons, and

devised that for the louder proclamation of his fame and wealth, he

would hold a solemn feast at Pentecost, when summer was come, and that

then in the presence of his earls and baronage he would be crowned

king. Arthur commanded all his lords on their allegiance to meet him

at Caerleon in Glamorgan. He desired to be crowned king in Caerleon,

because it was rich beyond other cities, and marvellously pleasant and

fair. Pilgrims told in those days that the mansions of Caerleon were

more desirable than the palaces of Rome. This rich city, Caerleon, was

builded on the Usk, a river which falls within the Severn. He who came

to the city from a strange land, might seek his haven by this fair

water. On one side of the town flowed this clear river; whilst on the

other spread a thick forest. Fish were very plentiful in the river,

and of venison the burgesses had no lack. Passing fair and deep were

the meadows about the city, so that the barns and granges were very

rich. Within the walls rose two mighty churches, greatly praised. One

of these famed churches was called in remembrance of Saint Julius the

Martyr, and held a convent of holy nuns for the fairer service of God.

The second church was dedicate to Saint Aaron, his companion. The

bishop had his seat therein. Moreover, this church was furnished with

many wealthy clergy and canons of seemly life. These clerks were

students of astronomy, concerning themselves diligently with the

courses of the stars. Often enough they prophesied to Arthur what the

future would bring forth, and of the deeds that he would do. So goodly

was the city, there was none more delectable in all the earth. Now by

reason of the lofty palaces, the fair woods and pastures, the ease and

content, and all the delights of which you have heard, Arthur desired

to hold his court at Caerleon, and to bid his barons to attend him

every one. He commanded, therefore, to the feast, kings and earls,

dukes and viscounts, knights and barons, bishops and abbots. Nor did

Arthur bid Englishmen alone, but Frenchman and Burgundian, Auvergnat

and Gascon, Norman and Poitivin, Angevin and Fleming, together with

him of Brabant, Hainault, and Lorraine, the king bade to his dinner.

Frisian and Teuton, Dane and Norwegian, Scot, Irish, and Icelander,

him of Cathness and of Gothland, the lords of Galway and of the

furthest islands of the Hebrides, Arthur summoned them all. When these

received the king's messages commanding them to his crowning, they

hastened to observe the feast as they were bidden, every one. From

Scotland came Aguisel the king, richly vested in his royal robes;

there, too, was Unan, King of Murief, together with his son Yvam the

courteous; Lot of Lyones also, to take a brave part in the revels,

and with him that very frank and gentle knight Gawain, his son. There

besides were Stater and Cadual, kings of South Wales and of North,

Cador of Cornwall, right near to Arthur's heart; Morud, Earl of

Gloucester; and Guerdon, Earl of Winchester. Anavalt came from

Salisbury, and Rimarec from Canterbury. Earl Baldulph drew from

Silchester, and Vigenin from Leicester. There, too, was Algal of

Guivic, a baron much held in honour by the court. Other lords were

there a many, in no wise of less reputation than their fellows. The

son of Po that was hight Donander; Regian, son of Abauder; Ceilus the

son of Coil, that son of Chater named Chatellus, Griffin, the heir of

Nagroil, Ron, the son of Neco; Margoil, Clefaut, Ringar, Angan, Rimar

and Gorbonian, Kinlint, Neco and that Peredur, whom men deemed to be

gotten by Eladur. Besides these princes there drew to Caerleon such

knights as were of the king's house, and served him about his court.

These were his chosen friends, who had their seats at the King's Round

Table, but more of them I cannot tell. Many other lords were there of

only less wealth and worship than those I have named. So numerous was

this fair company that I have lost count of their numbers. A noble

array of prelates came also to Arthur's solemn feast. Abbots and

mitred bishops walked in their order and degree. The three archbishops

of the realm came in his honour, namely, the Archbishop of London, his

brother of York, and holy Dubricius, whose chair was in that self same

city. Very holy of life was this fair prelate. Very abundantly he

laboured, being Archbishop of Caerleon and Legate of Rome. Many

wonderful works were wrought by his hands. The sick were brought to

him gladly, and by reason of his love and his prayers, oftentimes

they were healed of their hurt. In olden days this Dubricius abode in

London, but now was Bishop in Wales, by reason of the evil times when

kings regarded not God, and the people forsook the churches of their

fathers. These clergy assembled at Arthur's court, for the king's

feast, together with so great a fellowship of barons that I know not

even to rehearse you their names.

Yet these must be remembered, whomsoever I forget. Villamus, King of

Ireland, and Mahnus, King of Iceland, and Doldamer, lord of that lean

and meagre country, known as the land of Goths. Acil, the King of the

Danes; Lot, who was King of Norway, and Gonfal, jarl of the lawless

Orkneys, from whence sail the pirates in their ships. From the parts

beyond the seas came Ligier, holding the dukedom and honour of

Burgundy; Holden, Earl of Flanders; and Guerin, Earl of Chartres,

having the twelve peers of France in his company, for the richer

dignity and splendour of his state. Guitard was there, the Earl of

Poitiers; Kay, whom the king had created Earl of Angers; and Bedevere

of Neustria, that province which men now call Normandy. From Le Mans

drew Earl Borel, and from Brittany Earl Hoel. Passing noble of visage

was Hoel, and all those lords who came forth from France. They voyaged

to Arthur's court in chased harness and silken raiment, riding on

lusty horses with rich trappings, and wearing jewels, with many golden

ornaments. There was not a prince from here even unto Spain, yea, to

the very Rhine in the land of Germany, but hastened to Arthur's solemn

feast, so only that he was bidden to that crowning. Of these some came

to look on the face of the king, some to receive of his largeness

costly gifts, some to have speech with the lords of his council. Some

desired to marvel over the abundance of Arthur's wealth, and others to

hear tell of the great king's courtesies. This lord was drawn by the

cords of love; this by compulsion of his suzerain's ban, this to learn

by the witness of his eyes whether Arthur's power and prosperity

exceeded that fame of which the whole world bragged.

When this proud company of kings, bishops, and princes was gathered

together to observe Arthur's feast, the whole city was moved. The

king's servants tolled diligently making ready for so great a

concourse of guests. Soldiers ran to and fro, busily seeking hostels

for this fair assemblage. Houses were swept and garnished, spread with

reeds, and furnished with hangings of rich arras. Halls and chambers

were granted to their needs, together with stables for the horses and

their provand. Those for whom hostelries might not be found abode in

seemly lodgings, decently appointed to their degree. The city was full

of stir and tumult. In every place you beheld squires leading horses

and destriers by the bridle, setting saddles on hackneys and taking

them off, buckling the harness and making the metal work shining and

bright. Grooms went about their business. Never was such a cleansing

of stables, such taking of horses to the meadows, such a currying and

combing, shoeing and loosing of girths, washing and watering, such a

bearing of straw and of grass for the litter, and oats for the manger.

Nor these alone, but in the courtyards and chambers of the hostels you

might see the pages and chamberlains go swiftly about their tasks, in

divers fashions. The varlets brushed and folded the habiliments and

mantles of their lords. They looked to the stuff and the fastenings of

their garments. You saw them hurry through the halls carrying furs and

furred raiment, both vair and the grey. Caerleon seemed rather a fair

than a city, at Arthur's feast.

Now telleth the chronicle of this geste, that when the morning was

come of the day of the high feast, a fair procession of archbishops,

bishops, and abbots wended to the king's palace, to place the crown

upon Arthur's head, and lead him within the church. Two of these

archbishops brought him through the streets of the city, one walking

on either side of his person. Each bishop sustained the king by his

arm, and thus he was earned to his throne. Four kings went before

Arthur and the clerks, bearing swords in their hands. Pommel,

scabbard, and hilt of these four swords were of wrought gold. This was

the office of these kings when Arthur held state at his court. The

first of the princes was from Scotland, the second from South Wales,

the third was of North Wales, and as to the last it was Cador of

Cornwall who earned the fourth sword. All these fair princes were

at one in their purpose, being altogether at unity, when Arthur was

crowned king. To holy Dubricius it fell, as prelate of Caerleon and

Roman legate, to celebrate the office and perform such rites as were

seemly to be rendered in the church.

That the queen might not be overshadowed by her husband's state, the

crown was set on her head in another fashion. For her part she had

bidden to her court the great ladies of the country, and such dames as

were the wives of her friends. Together with these had assembled the

ladies of her kindred, such ladies as were most to her mind, and many

fair and gentle maidens whom she desired to be about her person at the

feast. The presence of this gay company of ladies made the feast yet

more rich, when the queen was crowned in her chamber, and brought to

that convent of holy nuns for the conclusion of the rite. The press

was so great that the queen might hardly make her way through the

streets of the city. Four dames preceded their lady, bearing four

white doves in their hands. These dames were the wives of those lords

who carried the golden swords before the king. A fair company of

damsels followed after the queen, making marvellous joy and delight.

This fair fellowship of ladies came from the noblest of the realm.

Passing dainty were they to see, wearing rich mantles above their

silken raiment. All men gazed gladly upon them, for their beauty was

such that none was sweeter than her fellows. These dames and maidens

went clothed in their softest garments. Their heads were tired in

their fairest hennins, and they walked in their most holiday vesture.

Never were seen so many rich kirtles of divers colours, such costly

mantles, such precious jewels and rings. Never were seen such furs and

such ornaments, both the vair and the grey. Never was known so gay and

noble a procession of ladies, as this which hastened to the church,

lest it should be hindered from the rite.

Now within the church Mass was commenced with due pomp and observance.

The noise of the organ filled the church, and the clerks sang tunably

in the choir. Their voices swelled or failed, according as the chant

mounted to the roof, or died away in supplication. The knights passed

from one church to the other. Now they would be at the convent of St.

Julius, and again at the cathedral church of St. Aaron. This they did

to compare the singing of the clerks, and to delight their eyes with

the loveliness of the damsels. Although the knights passed frequently

between the churches, yet no man could answer for certain at which

they remained the longer. They could not surfeit the heart by reason

of the sweetness of the melody. Yea, had the song endured the whole

day through, I doubt those knights would ever have grown weary or

content.

When the office drew to its appointed end, and the last words were

chanted, the king put off his crown that he had carried to the church.

He took another crown which sat more lightly on his head; and in such

fashion did the queen. They laid aside their heavy robes and ornaments

of state, and vested them in less tiring raiment. The king parted from

St. Aaron's church, and returned to his palace for meat. The queen,

for her part, came again to her own house, carrying with her that fair

fellowship of ladies, yet making marvellous joy. For the Britons held

still to the custom brought by their sires from Troy, that when the

feast was spread, man ate with man alone, bringing no lady with him

to the board. The ladies and damsels ate apart. No men were in their

hall, save only the servitors, who served them with every observance,

for the feast was passing rich, as became a monarch's court. When

Arthur was seated in his chair upon the dais, the lords and princes

sat around the board, according to the usage of the country, each in

his order and degree. The king's seneschal, hight Sir Kay, served

Arthur's table, clad in a fair dalmatic of vermeil silk. With Sir Kay

were a thousand damoiseaux, clothed in ermine, who bore the dishes

from the buttery. These pages moved briskly about the tables, carrying

the meats in platters to the guests. Together with these were yet

another thousand damoiseaux, gentle and goodly to see, clothed

likewise in coats of ermine. These fair varlets poured the wine from

golden beakers into cups and hanaps of fine gold. Not one of these

pages but served in a vesture of ermine. Bedevere, the king's

cupbearer, himself set Arthur's cup upon the board; and those called

him master who saw that Arthur's servants lacked not drink.

The queen had so many servitors at her bidding, that I may not tell

you the count. She and all her company of ladies were waited on,

richly and reverently. Right worshipfully were they tended. These

ladies had to their table many rich meats, and wines and spiced drink

of divers curious fashions. The dishes and vessels from which they ate

were very precious, and passing fair. I know not how to put before you

the wealth and the splendour of Arthur's feast. Whether for goodly men

or for chivalrous deeds, for wealth as for plenty, for courtesy as for

honour, in Arthur's day England bore the flower from all the lands

near by, yea, from every other realm whereof we know. The poorest

peasant in his smock was a more courteous and valiant gentleman than

was a belted knight beyond the sea. And as with the men, so, and no

otherwise, was it with the women. There was never a knight whose

praise was bruited abroad, but went in harness and raiment and plume

of one and the self-same hue. The colour of surcoat and armour in

the field was the colour of the gown he wore in hall. The dames and

damsels would apparel them likewise in cloth of their own colour. No

matter what the birth and riches of a knight might be, never, in all

his days, could he gain fair lady to his friend, till he had proved

his chivalry and worth. That knight was accounted the most nobly born

who bore himself the foremost in the press. Such a knight was indeed

cherished of the ladies; for his friend was the more chaste as he was

brave.

After the king had risen from the feast, he and his fellowship went

without the city to take their delight amongst the fields. The lords

sought their pleasure in divers places. Some amongst them jousted

together, that their horses might be proven. Others fenced with the

sword, or cast the stone, or flung pebbles from a sling. There were

those who shot with the bow, like cunning archers, or threw darts at

a mark. Every man strove with his fellow, according to the game he

loved. That knight who proved the victor in his sport, and bore the

prize from his companions, was carried before the king in the sight of

all the princes. Arthur gave him of his wealth so goodly a gift, that

he departed from the king's presence in great mirth and content. The

ladies of the court climbed upon the walls, looking down on the games

very gladly. She, whose friend was beneath her in the field, gave

him the glance of her eye and her face; so that he strove the more

earnestly for her favour. Now to the court had gathered many tumblers,

harpers, and makers of music, for Arthur's feast. He who would hear

songs sung to the music of the rote, or would solace himself with the

newest refrain of the minstrel, might win to his wish. Here stood

the viol player, chanting ballads and lays to their appointed tunes.

Everywhere might be heard the voice of viols and harp and flutes.

In every place rose the sound of lyre and drum and shepherd's pipe,

bagpipe, psaltery, cymbals, monochord, and all manner of music. Here

the tumbler tumbled on his carpet. There the mime and the dancing girl

put forth their feats. Of Arthur's guests some hearkened to the teller

of tales and fables. Others called for dice and tables, and played

games of chance for a wager. Evil befalls to winner and loser alike

from such sport as this. For the most part men played at chess or

draughts. You might see them, two by two, bending over the board. When

one player was beaten by his fellow, he borrowed moneys to pay his

wager, giving pledges for the repayment of his debt. Dearly enough he

paid for his loan, getting but eleven to the dozen. But the pledge was

offered and taken, the money rendered, and the game continued with

much swearing and cheating, much drinking and quarrelling, with strife

and with anger. Often enough the loser was discontented, and rose

murmuring against his fellow. Two by two the dicers sat at table,

casting the dice. They threw in turn, each throwing higher than his

fellow. You might hear them count, six, five, three, four, two, and

one. They staked their raiment on the cast, so there were those who

threw half naked. Fair hope had he who held the dice, after his fellow

had cried his number. Then the quarrel rose suddenly from the silence.

One called across the table to his companion, "You cheat, and throw

not fairly. Grasp not the dice so tightly in your hand, but shake them

forth upon the board. My count is yet before yours. If you still have

pennies in your pouch bring them out, for I will meet you to your

wish." Thus the dicers wrangled, and to many of Arthur's guests it

chanced that he who sat to the board in furs, departed from the tables

clothed in his skin.

When the fourth day of the week was come, on a certain Wednesday, the

king made knights of his bachelors, granting them rents to support

their stations. He recompensed those lords of his household who held

of him their lands at suit and service. Such clerks as were diligent

in their Master's business he made abbots and bishops; and bestowed

castles and towns on his counsellors and friends. To those stranger

knights who for his love had crossed the sea in his quarrel, the king

gave armour and destrier and golden ornaments, to their desire. Arthur

divided amongst them freely of his wealth. He granted lordship and

delights, greyhound and brachet, furred gown and raiment, beaker

and hanap, sendal and signet, bhaut and mantle, lance and sword and

quivers of sharp barbed arrows. He bestowed harness and buckler and

weapons featly fashioned by the smith. He gave largesse of bears

and of leopards, of palfreys and hackneys, of chargers with saddles

thereon. He gave the helm as the hauberk, the gold as the silver, yea,

he bestowed on his servants the very richest and most precious of his

treasure. Never a man of these outland knights, so only he was worthy

of Arthur's bounty, but the king granted him such gifts as he might

brag of in his own realm. And as with the foreign lords, so to the

kings and the princes, the knights, and all his barons, Arthur gave

largely many precious gifts.

Now as King Arthur was seated on a dais with these princes and earls

before him, there entered in his hall twelve ancient men, white and

greyheaded, full richly arrayed in seemly raiment. These came within

the palace two by two. With the one hand each clasped his companion,

and in the other carried a fair branch of olive. The twelve elders

passed at a slow pace down the hall, bearing themselves right

worshipfully. They drew near to Arthur's throne, and saluted the king

very courteously. They were citizens of Rome, said the spokesman of

these aged men, and were ambassadors from the emperor, bringing with

them letters to the king. Having spoken such words, one amongst them

made ready his parchment, and delivered it in Arthur's hands. This was

the sum of the writing sent by the Emperor of Rome.

"Lucius, the Emperor and lord of Rome, to King Arthur, his enemy,

these, according to his deservings. I marvel very greatly, and disdain

whilst yet I marvel, the pride and ill-will which have puffed you up

to seek to do me evil. I have nothing but contempt and wonder for

those who counsel you to resist the word of Rome, whilst yet one Roman

draws his breath. You have acted lightly, and by reason of vanity have

wrought mischief to us who are the front and avengers of the world.

You resemble a blind man, whose eyes the leech prepares to open. You

know not yet, but very soon you will have learned, the presumption of

him who teaches law to the justice of Rome. It is not enough to say

that you have acted after your kind, and sinned according to your

nature. Know you not whom you are, and from what dust you have come,

that you dare to dispute the tribute to Rome! Why do you steal our

land and our truage? Why do you refuse to render Caesar that which is

his own? Are you indeed so strong that we may not take our riches

from your hand? Perchance you would show us a marvellous matter.

Behold--you say--the lion fleeing from the lamb, the wolf trembling

before the kid, and the leopard fearful of the hare. Be not deceived.

Nature will not suffer such miracles to happen. Julius Caesar, our

mighty ancestor--whom, maybe, you despise in your heart--conquered the

land of Britain, taking tribute thereof, and this you have paid until

now. From other islands also, neighbours of this, it was our custom to

receive truage. These in your presumption you have taken by force, to

your own most grievous hurt. Moreover, you have been so bold as to put

yet greater shame and damage upon us, since Frollo, our tribune, is

slain, and France and Britain, by fraud, you keep wrongfully in your

power. Since, then, you have not feared Rome, neither regarded her

honour, the senate summon you by these letters, and command you under

pain of their displeasure, to appear before them at mid August,

without fail or excuse. Come prepared to make restitution of that you

have taken, whatever the cost; and to give satisfaction for all those

things whereof you are accused. If so be you think to keep silence,

and do naught of that you are bidden, I will cross the Mont St.

Bernard with a mighty host, and pluck Britain and France from your

hand. Do not deem that you can make head against me, neither hold

France in my despite. Never will you dare to pass that sea, for my

dearer pleasure; yea, were your courage indeed so great, yet never

might you abide my coming. Be persuaded that in what place soever you

await me, from thence I will make you skip. For this is my purpose, to

bind you with bonds, and bring you to Rome, and deliver you, bound, to

the judgment of the senate."

When this letter was read in the hearing of those who were come to

Arthur's solemnity, a great tumult arose, for they were angered beyond

measure. Many of the Britons took God to witness that they would do

such things and more also to those ambassadors who had dared deliver

the message. They pressed about those twelve ancient men, with many

wild and mocking words. Arthur rose hastily to his feet, bidding the

brawlers to keep silence. He cried that none should do the Romans a

mischief, for they were an embassy, and carried the letters of their

lord. Since they were but another's mouthpiece, he commanded that none

should work them harm. After the noise was at an end, and Arthur was

assured that the elders were no longer in peril, he called his privy

council and the lords of his household together, in a certain stone

keep, that was named the Giant's Tower. The king would be advised by

his barons--so ran the summons--what answer he should give to the

messengers of Rome. Now as they mounted the stairs, earl and prince,

pell mell, together, Cador, who was a merry man, saw the king before

him. "Fair king," said the earl gaily, "for a great while the thought

has disturbed me, that peace and soft living are rotting away the

British bone. Idleness is the stepdame of virtue, as our preachers

have often told us. Soft living makes a sluggard of the hardiest

knight, and steals away his strength. She cradles him with dreams of

woman, and is the mother of chambering and wantonness. Folded hands

and idleness cause our young damoiseaux to waste their days over merry

tales, and dice, raiment to catch a lady's fancy and things that are

worse. Rest and assurance of safety will in the end do Britain more

harm than force or guile. May the Lord God be praised Who has jogged

our elbow. To my mind He has persuaded these Romans to challenge our

country that we may get us from sleep. If the Romans trust so greatly

in their might that they do according to their letters, be assured the

Briton has not yet lost his birthright of courage and hardness. I am

a soldier, and have never loved a peace that lasts over long, since

there are uglier things than war." Gawain overheard these words. "Lord

earl," said he, "by my faith be not fearful because of the young men.

Peace is very grateful after war. The grass grows greener, and the

harvest is more plenteous. Merry tales, and songs, and ladies' love

are delectable to youth. By reason of the bright eyes and the worship

of his friend, the bachelor becomes knight and learns chivalry."

Whilst the lords jested amongst themselves in this fashion, they

climbed the tower, and were seated in the chamber. When Arthur marked

that each was in his place, silent and attentive to the business, he

considered for a little that he had to speak. Presently he lifted his

head, and spoke such words as these. "Lords," said the king, "who are

here with me, nay, rather my companions and my friends, companions

alike, whether the day be good or evil, by whose sustenance alone I

have endured such divers quarrels, hearken well to me. In the days

that are told, have we not shared victory and defeat together,

partners, you with me, as I with you, in gain and in loss? Through

you, and by reason of your help in time of trouble, have I won many

battles. You have I carried over land and sea, far and near, to many

strange realms. Ever have I found you loyal and true, in business

and counsel. Because of your prowess I hold the heritage of divers

neighbouring princes in subjection. Lords, you have hearkened to the

letters carried by the ambassadors of Rome, and to the malice they

threaten if we do not after their commandment. Very despiteful are

they against us, and purpose to work us bitter mischief. But if God be

gracious to His people, we shall yet be delivered from their hand. Now

these Romans are a strong nation, passing rich and of great power. It

becomes us therefore to consider prudently what we shall say and do in

answer to their message, looking always to the end. He who is assured

of his mark gets there by the shortest road. When the arrows start to

fly, the sergeant takes shelter behind his shield. Let us be cautious

and careful like these. This Lucius seeks to do us a mischief. He is

in his right, and it is ours to take such counsel, that his mischief

falls on his own head. To-day he demands tribute from Britain and

other islands of the sea. To-morrow he purposes in his thought to

receive truage of France. Consider first the case of Britain, and how

to answer wisely therein. Britain was conquered by Caesar of force.

The Britons knew not how to keep them against his host, and perforce

paid him their tribute. But force is no right. It is but pride puffed

up and swollen beyond measure. They cannot hold of law what they have

seized by violence and wrong. The land is ours by right, even if the

Roman took it to himself by force. The Romans really reproach us for

the shame and the damage, the loss and the sorrow Caesar visited upon

our fathers. They boast that they will avenge such losses as these, by

taking the land with the rent, and making their little finger thicker

than their father's loins. Let them beware. Hatred breeds hatred

again, and things despiteful are done to those who despitefully use

you. They come with threats, demanding truage, and reproving us for

the evil we have done them. Tribute they claim by the right of the

strong, leaving sorrow and shame as our portion. But if the Romans

claim to receive tribute of Britain because tribute was aforetime paid

them from Britain, by the same reasoning we may establish that Rome

should rather pay tribute to us. In olden days there lived two

brothers, British born, namely, Belinus, King of the Britons, and

Brennus, Duke of Burgundy, both wise and doughty lords. These stout

champions arrived with their men before Rome, and shutting the city

close, at the end gained it by storm. They took hostages of the

citizens to pay them tribute, but since the burgesses did not observe

their covenant, the brethren hanged the hostages, to the number of

four and-twenty, in the eyes of all their kinsfolk. When Belinus went

to his own place, he commended Rome to the charge of Brennus, his

brother. Now Constantine, the son of Helena, drew from Brennus and

Belinus, and in his turn held Rome in his care. Maximian, King of

Britain, after he had conquered France and Germany, passed the Mont

St. Bernard into Lombardy, and took Rome to his keeping. These mighty

kings were my near kinsmen, and each was master of Rome. Thus you have

heard, and see clearly, that not only am I King of Britain, but by law

Emperor of Rome also, so we maintain the rights of our fathers. The

Romans have had truage of us, and my ancestors have taken seisin of

them. They claim Britain, and I demand Rome. This is the sum and end

of my counsel as regards Britain and Rome. Let him have the fief and

the rent who is mightier in the field. As to France and those other

countries which have been removed from their hands, the Romans should

not wish to possess that which they may not maintain. Either the

land was not to their mind, or they had not the strength to hold it.

Perchance the Romans have no rights in the matter, and it is by reason

of covetousness rather than by love of law, that they seek this

quarrel. Let him keep the land who can, by the right of the most

strong. For all these things the emperor menaces us very grievously. I

pray God that he may do us no harm. Our fiefs and goods he promises

to take from us, and lead us captive in bonds to Rome. We care not

overmuch for this, and are not greatly frighted at his words. If he

seek us after his boast, please God, he will have no mind to threaten

when he turns again to his own home. We accept his challenge, and

appeal to God's judgment, that all may be rendered to his keeping, who

is able to maintain it in his hand."

When Arthur the king had made an end of speaking in the ears of his

barons, the word was with those who had hearkened to his counsel. Hoel

followed after the king. "Sire," said he, "you have spoken much, and

right prudently, nor is there any who can add wisdom to your speech.

Summon now your vassals and meinie, together with us who are of your

household. Cross the sea straightway into France, and make the realm

sure with no further tarrying. From thence we can pass Mont St.

Bernard, and overrun Lombardy. By moving swiftly we shall carry the

war into the emperor's own land. We shall fright him so greatly that

he will have the less leisure to trouble Britain. Your movements,

moreover, will be so unlooked for that the Romans will be altogether

amazed, and quickly confounded. Sire, it is the Lord's purpose to

exalt you over all the kings of the earth. Hinder not the will of God

by doubtfulness. He is able to put even Rome in your power, so only it

be according to His thought. Remember the books of the Sibyl, and of

the prophecies therein. The Sibyl wrote that three kings should come

forth from Britain, who of their might should conquer Rome. Of these

three princes, two are dead. Belinus is dead, and Constantine is dead,

but each in his day was the master of Rome. You are that third king

destined to be stronger than the great city. In you the prophecy shall

be fulfilled, and the Sibyl's words accomplished. Why then scruple to

take what God gives of His bounty? Rise up then, exalt yourself, exalt

your servants, who would see the end of God's purpose. I tell you

truly that nothing of blows or hurt, neither weariness nor prison nor

death, counts aught with us in comparison with what is due to the

king's honour. For my part, I will ride in your company, so long as

this business endures, with ten thousand armed horsemen at my back.

Moreover, if your treasury has need of moneys for the quarrel, I will

put my realm in pledge, and deliver the gold and the gain to your

hand. Never a penny will I touch of my own, so long as the king has

need."