Enid heard the crash of his armour as he fell, and in a mome

Produced by Chris Curnow, Lindy Walsh, Suzan Flanagan and

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TOLD TO THE CHILDREN SERIES

EDITED BY LOUEY CHISHOLM

KING ARTHUR'S KNIGHTS

TO

MARIE WINIFRED

[Illustration: BESIDE HER STOOD HER BEAUTIFUL DAUGHTER

Page 7]

STORIES OF

King Arthur's Knights

TOLD TO THE CHILDREN BY

MARY MACGREGOR

WITH PICTURES BY

KATHARINE CAMERON

[Illustration]

LONDON: T. C. & E. C. JACK

NEW YORK: E. P. DUTTON & CO.

ABOUT THIS BOOK

More than four hundred years ago there lived a diligent man called

Sir Thomas Malory, who wrote in English words many of the beautiful

Welsh tales about King Arthur's Knights, that the people of Wales

loved so well.

All the stories in this little book were found in Malory's big

book, except 'Geraint and Enid.' But it, too, is one of the old

Welsh tales that tell of the brave knights and fair ladies of King

Arthur's court.

Many times, since Sir Thomas Malory wrote his book, have these

stories been told again to old and young, but perhaps never before

have they been told to the children so simply as in this little

book.

MARY MACGREGOR.

LIST OF STORIES

Page

Geraint and Enid, 1

Lancelot and Elaine, 29

Pelleas and Ettarde, 45

Gareth and Lynette, 61

Sir Galahad and the Sacred Cup, 88

The Death of King Arthur, 107

LIST OF PICTURES

GERAINT AND ENID.

Beside her stood her beautiful daughter, _Frontispiece_

At page

Through woods and swamps Enid and Geraint rode

silently, 20

LANCELOT AND ELAINE.

The Lily Maid of Astolat, 44

PELLEAS AND ETTARDE.

Sir Pelleas was always at his lady's side, 50

GARETH AND LYNETTE.

Sometimes the birds and beasts, his woodland

friends, would call to him, 62

The Lady Lyonors, 84

SIR GALAHAD AND THE SACRED CUP.

'My strength is as the strength of ten

Because my heart is pure,' 102

THE DEATH OF KING ARTHUR, 114

GERAINT AND ENID

Queen Guinevere lay idly in bed dreaming beautiful dreams. The

sunny morning hours were slipping away, but she was so happy in

dreamland, that she did not remember that her little maid had

called her long ago.

But the Queen's dreams came to an end at last, and all at once she

remembered that this was the morning she had promised to go to the

hunt with King Arthur.

Even in the hunting-field, the King was not quite happy if his

beautiful Queen Guinevere were not there. This morning he had

waited for her in vain, for in dreamland the Queen had forgotten

all about the hunt.

'If I dress quickly, I shall not be very late,' thought the Queen,

as she heard the far-off sound of the hunting-horn. And she was so

quick that in a very short time she and her little waiting-maid

were out, and riding up to a grassy knoll. But the huntsmen were

already far away. 'We will wait here to see them ride homewards,'

said the Queen, and they drew up their horses to watch and listen.

They had not waited long, when they heard the sound of horse's

hoofs, and turning round, the Queen saw Prince Geraint, one of

Arthur's knights. He was unarmed, except that his sword hung at his

side. He wore a suit of silk, with a purple sash round his waist,

and at each end of the sash was a golden apple, which sparkled in

the sunlight.

'You are late for the hunt, Prince Geraint,' said the Queen.

'Like you, I have come, not to join the hunt, but to see it pass,'

said the Prince, bowing low to the beautiful Queen. And he asked to

be allowed to wait with her and the little maid.

As they waited, three people, a lady, a knight and a dwarf, came

out of the forest, and rode slowly past. The knight had his helmet

off, and the Queen saw that he looked young and bold.

'I cannot remember if he is one of Arthur's knights. I must know

his name,' she said. And she sent her little maid to find out who

the strange knight was.

But when the little maid asked the dwarf his master's name, the

dwarf answered rudely that he would not tell her.

'Then I will ask your master himself,' said the maid. But as she

stepped towards the knight, the dwarf struck her with his whip, and

the little maid, half-angry and half-frightened, hurried back to

the Queen, and told her how the dwarf had treated her.

Prince Geraint was angry when he heard how rude the dwarf had been

to the Queen's little messenger, and said that he would go and find

out the knight's name.

But the dwarf, by his master's orders, treated the Prince as rudely

as he had treated the little maid. When Geraint felt the dwarf's

whip strike his cheek, and saw the blood dropping on to his purple

sash, he felt for the sword at his side. Then he remembered that

while he was tall and strong, the dwarf was small and weak, and he

scorned to touch him.

Going back to the Queen, Geraint told her that he had not been able

to find out the knight's name either, 'but with your leave, I will

follow him to his home, and compel him to ask your pardon,' said

the Prince. And the Queen allowed him to follow the knight.

'When you come back, you will perhaps bring a bride with you,' said

the Queen. 'If she be a great lady, or if she be only a

beggar-maid, I will dress her in beautiful robes, and she shall

stand among the fairest ladies of my court.'

'In three days I shall come back, if I am not slain in battle with

the knight,' said Geraint. And he rode away, a little sorry not to

hear the merry sound of the hunter's horn, and a little vexed that

he had undertaken this strange adventure.

Through valleys and over hills Geraint followed the lady, the

knight and the dwarf, till at last, in the evening, he saw them go

through the narrow streets of a little town, and reach a white

fortress. Into this fortress the lady, the knight and the dwarf

disappeared.

'I shall find the knight there to-morrow,' thought Geraint 'Now I

must go to an inn for food and a bed,' for he was hungry and tired

after his long ride.

But all the inns in the little town were full, and every one seemed

too busy to take any notice of the stranger.

'Why is there such a bustle in your town this evening?' asked

Geraint, first of one person and then of another. But they hurried

past him, muttering, 'The Sparrow-hawk has his tournament here

to-morrow.'

'The Sparrow-hawk! that is a strange name,' thought Geraint. But he

did not know that this was one of the names of the knight he had

followed so far.

Soon Geraint reached a smithy, and he looked in, and saw that the

smith was busy sharpening swords and spears. 'I will go in and buy

arms,' thought Geraint.

And because the smith saw that the stranger was dressed like a

Prince, he stopped his work for a moment to speak to him.

'Arms?' he said, when Geraint told him what he wanted. 'There are

no arms to spare, for the Sparrow-hawk holds his tournament here

to-morrow.'

'The Sparrow-hawk again!' thought Geraint. 'I wonder who he can

be.' Then he turned to the smith again and said, 'Though you cannot

give me arms, perhaps you can tell me where to find food and a

bed.'

'The old Earl Yniol might give you shelter. He lives in that

half-ruined castle across the bridge,' said the smith. And he

turned again to his work, muttering, 'Those who work for the

Sparrow-hawk have no time to waste in talk.'

So Geraint rode wearily on across the bridge and reached the

castle. The courtyard was quite empty and looked very dreary, for

it was all overgrown with weeds and thistles. At the door of the

half-ruined castle stood the old Earl.

'It is growing late. Will you not come in and rest,' said Earl

Yniol, 'although the castle be bare, and the fare simple?'

And Geraint said he would like to stay there, for he was so hungry

that the plainest food would seem a feast.

As he entered the castle, he heard some one singing. The song was

so beautiful, and the voice was so pure and clear, that Geraint

thought it was the sweetest song in all the world, and the old

castle seemed less gloomy as he listened.

Then Earl Yniol led Geraint into a long low room, and this room was

both dining-room and kitchen.

The Earl's wife sat there, and she wore a dress that must have been

very grand once, but now it was old.

Beside her stood her beautiful daughter, and she wore a faded silk

gown, but Geraint thought he had never seen so fair a face.

'This is the maiden who sang the beautiful song,' he thought. 'If I

can win her for my bride, she shall come back with me to Queen

Guinevere. But the brightest silks the Queen can dress her in, will

not make her look more fair than she does in this old gown,' he

murmured to himself.

'Enid,' said the Earl, 'take the stranger's horse to the stable,

and then go to the town and buy food for supper.'

Geraint did not like the beautiful girl to wait on him, and he got

up eagerly to help her.

'We are poor, and have no servants, but we cannot let our guest

wait upon himself,' said the Earl proudly. And Geraint had to sit

down, while Enid took his horse to the stall, and went across the

bridge to the little town to buy meat and cakes for supper.

And as the dining-room was the kitchen too, Geraint could watch

Enid as she cooked the food and set the table.

At first it grieved him that she should work at all, but afterwards

he thought, 'She touches everything with such grace and gentleness,

that the work grows beautiful under her white hands.'

And when supper was ready, Enid stood behind, and waited, and

Geraint almost forgot that he was very hungry, as he took the

dishes from her careful hands.

When supper was over, Geraint turned to the Earl. 'Who is this

Sparrow-hawk of whom all the townspeople chatter? Yet if he should

be the knight of the white fortress, do not tell me his real name.

That I must find out for myself.' And he told the Earl that he was

Prince Geraint, and that he had come to punish the knight, because

he allowed his dwarf to be so rude to the Queen's messengers.

The Earl was glad when he heard his guest's name. 'I have often

told Enid of your noble deeds and wonderful adventures,' he said,

'and when I stopped, she would call to me to go on. She loves to

hear of the noble deeds of Arthur's knights. But now I will tell

you about the Sparrow-hawk. He lives in the white fortress, and he

is my nephew. He is a fierce and cruel man, and when I would not

allow him to marry Enid, he hated me, and made the people believe I

was unkind to him. He said I had stolen his father's money from

him. And the people believed him,' said the Earl, 'and were full of

rage against me. One evening, just before Enid's birthday, three

years ago, they broke into our home, and turned us out, and took

away all our treasures. Then the Sparrow-hawk built himself the

white fortress for safety, but us he keeps in this old half-ruined

castle.'

'Give me arms,' said Geraint, 'and I will fight this knight in

to-morrow's tournament.'

'Arms I can give you,' said the Earl, 'though they are old and

rusty; but you cannot fight to-morrow.' And the Earl told Geraint

that the Sparrow-hawk gave a prize at the tournament. 'But every

knight who fights to-morrow must have a lady with him,' said the

Earl, 'so that if he wins the prize in fair fight from the

Sparrow-hawk, he may give it to her. But you have no lady to whom

you could give the prize, so you will not be allowed to fight.'

'Let me fight as your beautiful Enid's knight,' said Geraint. 'And

if I win the prize for her, let me marry her, for I love her more

than any one else in all the world.'

Then the Earl was pleased, for he knew that if the Prince took Enid

away, she would go to a beautiful home. And though the old castle

would be more dreary than ever without her, he loved his fair

daughter too well to wish to keep her there.

'Her mother will tell Enid to be at the tournament to-morrow,' said

the Earl, 'if she be willing to have you as her knight.'

And Enid was willing. And when she slept that night she dreamed of

noble deeds and true knights, and always in her dream the face of

each knight was like the face of Prince Geraint.

Early in the morning Enid woke her mother, and together they went

through the meadows to the place where the tournament was to be

held.

And the Earl and Geraint followed, and the Prince wore the Earl's

rusty arms, but in spite of these, every one could see that he was

a Prince.

A great many lords and ladies and all the townspeople came to see

the tournament.

Then the Sparrow-hawk came to the front of the great crowd, and

asked if any one claimed his prize. And he thought, 'No one here is

brave enough to fight with me.'

But Geraint was brave, and he called out loudly, 'I claim the

prize for the fairest lady in the field.' And he glanced at Enid in

her faded silk dress.

Then, in a great rage, the Sparrow-hawk got ready for the fight

with Enid's champion, and they fought so fiercely that three times

they broke their spears. Then they got off their horses, and fought

with their swords. And the lords and ladies and all the townspeople

marvelled that Geraint was still alive, for the Sparrow-hawk's

sword flashed like lightning round the Prince's head.

But Geraint, because he was fighting for the Queen, and to win the

gracious Enid for his bride, brought down his sword with all his

strength on the Sparrow-hawk's helmet. The blow brought the knight

to the ground, and Geraint put his foot on him, and demanded his

name.

And all the pride of the Sparrow-hawk was gone because Enid had

seen his fall, and he quickly told Geraint his name was Edyrn.

'I will spare your life,' said Geraint, 'but you must go to the

Queen and ask her to forgive you, and you must take the dwarf with

you. And you must give back to Earl Yniol his earldom and all his

treasures.'

Edyrn went to the Queen and she forgave him; and he stayed at the

court and grew ashamed of his rough and cruel deeds. At last he

began to fight for King Arthur, and lived ever after as a true

knight.

When the tournament was over, Geraint took the prize to Enid, and

asked her if she would be his bride, and go to the Queen's court

with him the next day. And Enid was glad, and said she would go.

In the early morning, Enid lay thinking of her journey. 'I have

only my faded silk dress to wear,' she sighed, and it seemed to her

shabbier and more faded than ever, as it hung there in the morning

light. 'If only I had a few days longer, I would weave myself a

dress. I would weave it so delicately that when Geraint took me to

the Queen, he would be proud of it,' she thought. For in her heart

she was afraid that Geraint would be ashamed of the old faded silk,

when they reached the court.

And her thoughts wandered back to the evening before her birthday,

three long years ago. She could never forget that evening, for it

was then that their home had been sacked. Then she thought of the

morning of that day when her mother had brought her a beautiful

gift. It was a dress, made all of silk, with beautiful silk flowers

woven into it. If only she could have worn that, but the robbers

had taken it away.

But what had happened? Enid sat up and rubbed her eyes. For at that

moment her mother came into the room, and over her arm was the very

dress Enid had been thinking of.

'The colours are as bright as ever,' said the mother, touching the

silk softly. And she told Enid how last night their scattered

treasures had been brought back, and how she had found the dress

among them.

'I will wear it at once,' said Enid, a glad look in her eyes. And

with loving hands her mother helped her to put on the old birthday

gift.

Downstairs the Earl was telling Geraint that last night the

Sparrow-hawk had sent back all their treasures. 'Among them is one

of Enid's beautiful dresses. At last you will see her dressed as a

Princess,' said the Earl gladly.

But Geraint remembered that he had first seen and loved Enid in the

faded gown, and he thought, 'I will ask her to wear it again to-day

for my sake.'

And Enid loved the Prince so dearly, that when she heard his wish,

she took off the beautiful dress she had been so glad to wear, and

went down to him in the old silk gown. And when Geraint saw Enid,

the gladness in his face made her glad too, and she forgot all

about the old dress.

All that day Queen Guinevere sat in a high tower and often glanced

out of the window to look for Geraint and his bride. When she saw

them riding along the white road, she went down to the gate herself

to welcome them. And when the Queen had dressed Enid in soft and

shining silk, all the court marvelled at her beauty.

But because Geraint had first seen and loved her in the old faded

silk, Enid folded it up with care and put it away among the things

she loved.

And a feast was made for the wedding-day, and in great joy Geraint

and Enid were married.

Day by day Geraint loved his wife more dearly. And Enid was happy

in this strange new life, and she wondered at the merry lords and

ladies, and she loved the beautiful Queen, who was so kind to her.

And Geraint was glad that Enid was often with the Queen, till one

day he heard some people say that though the Queen was very

beautiful, she was not good. And Geraint heard this so often, that

he learned to believe it.

'I must take Enid away from the court,' he thought, 'for she

worships the Queen and may grow like her.'

So Geraint went to King Arthur, and asked to be allowed to go to

his own country. He told the King that robbers trampled down his

cornfields, and carried away his cattle. 'I wish to go and fight

these robbers,' he said. And King Arthur allowed him to go.

And Enid left the Queen and the lords and ladies gladly, to go with

Geraint.

But all the time Geraint could not help thinking, 'Enid is longing

for the knights and ladies she knew at the court.'

When Geraint reached his own country, he forgot all about the

robbers, who were destroying his land. He forgot to go to the hunt,

or the tournament, or to look after the poor people. And this was

all because he loved Enid so much. He thought, 'I will stay with

her all day. I will be so kind to her that she will forget the gay

lords and ladies, and be happy here, alone with me.'

But Enid grew sadder and paler every day. She did not wish Geraint

to wait on her and forget every one else. She wanted him to be a

true knight.

And the people began to scoff and jeer whenever Geraint's name was

spoken. 'The Prince is no knight,' they said. 'The robbers spoil

his land and carry off his cattle, but he neither cares nor

fights. He does nothing but wait on the fair Lady Enid.'

Enid knew what the people said, and she thought, 'I must tell

Geraint, and then surely he will be ashamed, and become a brave

knight once more.' But always her courage failed.

'I think I could buckle on his armour and ride with him to battle,'

thought Enid, 'but how can I tell him he is no worthy knight?'

And her tears fell fast, and Geraint coming in, saw her weeping,

and thought, 'She weeps for the gay lords and ladies of Arthur's

court.'

Then all at once he hated his idle life. 'It has only made Enid

despise me,' he thought. 'We will go together into the wilderness,

and I will show her I can still fight.' And half in anger and half

in sadness he called for his war-horse.

Then Geraint told Enid to put on her oldest dress and ride with him

into the wilderness. And because he was angry with himself for

thinking that Enid wept for the gay knights and ladies at Arthur's

court, he would not ride with her, but told her to go on in front,

and 'whatever you see or hear, do not speak to me,' he said

sternly.

Then Enid remembered the old faded silk gown. 'I will wear that,

for he loved me in it,' she thought.

Through woods and swamps Enid and Geraint rode in silence. And

while Enid's heart cried, 'Why is Geraint angry with me?' her eyes

were busy glancing into every bush and corner, in case robbers

should attack her lord.

At last in the shadow of some trees, Enid saw three tall knights.

They were armed, and she heard them whisper, when they saw Geraint,

'This is a craven-looking knight. We will slay him, and take his

armour and his maiden.'

And Enid thought, 'Even if it makes Geraint angry, I must tell him

what the knights say, or they will attack him before he knows they

are there.' And Enid turned back. Geraint frowned as he saw her

coming to speak to him, but Enid said bravely, 'There are three

knights in front of us. They say they will fight with you.'

'I do not want your warning,' said Geraint roughly, 'but you shall

see I can fight.'

Sad and pale, Enid watched the three knights spring suddenly out of

their ambush and attack her lord.

But Geraint threw his spear at the tallest knight, and it pierced

his breast. Then with two sword thrusts, he stunned the other two.

Geraint dismounted, and took the armour of the three fallen

knights, and tied it round their horses. Twining the three bridle

reins into one, he gave it to Enid.

'Drive these horses in front, and whatever you see or hear, do not

speak to me,' said Geraint. But he rode a little nearer Enid than

before, and that made her glad.

Soon they came to a wood, and in the wood Enid again saw three

knights. One was taller and looked stronger than Geraint, and Enid

trembled as she looked at him.

'The knight hangs his head, and the horses are driven by a girl,'

she heard them mutter. 'We will kill the knight, and take his

damsel and his horses for ourselves.'

[Illustration: THROUGH WOODS AND SWAMPS ENID AND GERAINT RODE IN

SILENCE

Page 19]

'Surely,' thought Enid, 'I may warn Geraint this time, for he is

faint and tired after the last battle.'

And Enid waited till Geraint rode up to her, and told him there

were three evil men in front of them. 'One is stronger than you,'

she said, 'and he means to kill you.'

And Geraint answered angrily, 'If you would but obey me, I would

fight one hundred knights gladly.' Yet Geraint loved Enid all the

time, though he spoke so roughly.

Then Enid stood out of the way, and she hardly dared to look as the

strongest knight attacked Geraint. But Geraint hurled his spear

through the strong knight's armour, and he fell over and died.

The other two knights came slowly towards Geraint, but he shouted

his battle-cry, and they turned and fled. But Geraint caught them,

and killed them.

Again Geraint tied the armour of the three slain knights round

their horses. Then he twisted the three reins together, and handed

them to Enid.

'Drive these on in front,' said Geraint. And now Enid had six

horses to drive, and Geraint saw that they were difficult to

manage. Then he rode nearer Enid.

They had left the wood behind them now, and were riding through

cornfields, where reapers were busy cutting down the waving corn.

Coming down the path towards them, they saw a fair-haired boy. He

was carrying food to the reapers. Geraint thought Enid looked

faint, and he was very hungry, so he stopped the lad and asked for

food.

'I can give you some of this; it is the reapers' dinner,' said the

boy. 'But it is coarse and plain food,' and he glanced doubtfully

at the lady with the sad eyes and her stern-looking knight.

But Geraint thanked him, and took the food to Enid. And to please

him she ate a little, but Geraint was so hungry that he finished

all the reapers' dinner.

'I will reward you,' said Geraint, for the lad was dismayed to find

nothing left for the reapers to eat. And he told him to take one

of the horses, with the suit of armour bound round it.

Then the boy was full of glee, and thought himself a knight, as he

led the horse away.

Geraint and Enid then went to the little village near the

cornfields, and lodged there for one night.

The country they were in belonged to a cruel Earl. He had once

wanted to marry Enid. When he heard that she was in his country, he

made up his mind to kill Geraint, and make Enid marry him after

all.

'I will go to the inn while they are still asleep,' thought the

Earl, 'and kill the knight and take Enid away.'

But Geraint and Enid had got up very early that morning, and had

left the five horses and the five suits of armour with the

landlord, to pay him for their food and shelter.

By the time the Earl reached the inn Geraint and Enid had ridden a

long way into a wild country.

Then the wicked Earl galloped after them, and Enid heard the sound

of horse's hoofs coming nearer and nearer. As the horseman dashed

down upon Geraint, Enid hid her face, and asked God to spare her

dear lord's life once more.

The fight was long and fierce, but at last Geraint overthrew the

Earl, and left him lying half-dead in the dust.

Still a little in front, Enid rode silently on, and Geraint

followed, but he had been wounded in the fight with the Earl,

though he did not tell Enid. And the wound bled inside his armour,

till Geraint felt very faint, and suddenly everything seemed black

in front of him. He reeled and fell from his horse on to a bank of

grass.

Enid heard the crash of his armour as he fell, and in a moment she

was beside him. She unbuckled the armour and took off his helmet

Then she took her veil of faded silk and bound up his wound. But

Geraint lay quite still.

Enid's horse wandered into a forest and was lost, but Geraint's

noble war-horse kept watch with Enid, as if he understood.

About noon, the Earl, in whose country they now were, passed along

with his followers. He saw the two by the wayside, and shouted to

Enid, 'Is he dead?'

'No, no, not dead; he cannot be dead. Let him be carried out of the

sun,' she entreated.

And Enid's great sorrow, and her great beauty, made the Earl a

little less rough, and he told his men to carry Geraint to the

hall. 'His charger is a noble one, bring it too,' shouted the Earl.

His men unwillingly carried Geraint to the hall, and laid him down

on a stretcher there, and left him.

Enid bent over him, chafing his cold hands, and calling him to come

back to her.

After a long time Geraint opened his eyes. He saw Enid tenderly

watching him, and he felt Enid's tears dropping on his face. 'She

weeps for me,' he thought; but he did not move, but lay there as if

he were dead.

In the evening the Earl came into the great hall and called for

dinner, and many knights and ladies sat down with him, but no one

remembered Enid. But when the Earl had finished eating and

drinking, his eye fell on her. He remembered how she had wept for

her wounded lord in the morning.

'Do not weep any more, but eat and be merry. Then I will marry you,

and you shall share my earldom, and I will hunt for you,' said the

wild Earl.

Enid's head drooped lower, and she murmured, 'Leave me alone, I

beseech you, for my lord is surely dead.'

The Earl hardly heard what she said, but thought Enid was thanking

him. 'Yes, eat and be glad,' he repeated, 'for you are mine.'

'How can I ever be glad again?' said Enid, thinking, 'Surely

Geraint is dead.'

But the Earl was growing impatient. He seized her roughly, and made

her sit at the table, and he put food before her, shouting, 'Eat.'

'No,' said Enid, 'I will not eat, till my lord arises and eats with

me.'

'Then drink,' said the Earl, and he thrust a cup to her lips.

'No,' said Enid, 'I will not drink, till my lord arises and drinks

with me; and if he does not arise, I will not drink wine till I

die.'

The Earl strode up and down the hall in a great rage. 'If you will

neither eat nor drink, will you take off this old faded dress?'

said the Earl. And he told one of his women to bring Enid a robe,

which had been woven across the sea, and which was covered with

many gems.

But Enid told the Earl how Geraint had first seen and loved her in

the dress she wore, and how he had asked her to wear it when he

took her to the Queen. 'And when we started on this sad journey, I

wore it again, to win back his love,' she said, 'and I will never

take it off till he arises and bids me.'

Then the Earl was angry. He came close to Enid, and struck her on

the cheek with his hand.

And Enid thought, 'He would not have dared to strike me, if he had

not known that my lord was truly dead,' and she gave a bitter cry.

When Geraint heard Enid's cry, with one bound he leaped to where

the huge Earl stood, and with one swing of his sword cut off the

Earl's head, and it fell down and rolled along the floor.

Then all the lords and ladies were afraid, for they had thought

Geraint was dead, and they fled, and Geraint and Enid were left

alone.

And Geraint never again thought that Enid loved the gay lords and

ladies at King Arthur's court better than she loved him.

Then they went back to their own land. And soon the people knew

that Prince Geraint had come back a true knight, and the old

whispers that he was a coward faded away, and the people called him

'Geraint the Brave.'

And her ladies called Enid, 'Enid the Fair,' but the people on the

land called her 'Enid the Good.'

LANCELOT AND ELAINE

Her name was Elaine. But she was so fair that her father called her

'Elaine the Fair,' and she was so lovable that her brothers called

her 'Elaine the Lovable,' and that was the name she liked best of

all.

The country people, who lived round about the castle of Astolat,

which was Elaine's home, had another and a very beautiful name for

her. As she passed their windows in her white frock, they looked at

the white lilies growing in their gardens, and they said, 'She is

tall and graceful and pure as these,' and they called her the 'Lily

Maid of Astolat.'

Elaine lived in the castle alone with her father and her two

brothers, and an old dumb servant who had waited on her since she

was a baby.

To her father Elaine seemed always a bright and winsome child,

though she was growing up now. He would watch her serious face as

she listened to Sir Torre, the grave elder brother, while he told

her that wise maidens stayed at home to cook and sew. And he would

laugh as he saw her, when Sir Torre turned away, run off wilfully

to the woods.

Elaine spent long happy days out of doors with her younger brother

Lavaine. When they grew tired of chasing the butterflies and

gathering the wildflowers, they would sit under the pine-trees and

speak of Arthur's knights and their noble deeds, and they longed to

see the heroes of whom they talked.

'And the tournament will be held at Camelot this year,' Lavaine

reminded his sister. 'If some of the knights ride past Astolat, we

may see them as they pass.' And Elaine and Lavaine counted the days

till the tournament would begin.

Now Arthur had offered the prize of a large diamond to the knight

who fought most bravely at the tournament.

But the knights murmured to each other, 'We need not hope to win

the prize, for Sir Lancelot will be on the field, and who can stand

before the greatest knight of Arthur's court?'

And the Queen heard what the knights said to each other, and she

told Lancelot how they lost courage and hope when he came on to the

field. 'They begin to think some magic is at work when they see

you, and they cannot fight their best. But I have a plan. You must

go to the tournament at Camelot in disguise. And though the knights

do not know with whom they fight, they will still fall before the

strength of Lancelot's arm,' added the Queen, smiling up to him.

Then Lancelot disguised himself, and left the court and rode

towards Camelot. But when he was near Astolat he lost his way, and

wandered into the old castle grounds, where Elaine stood, with her

father and brothers.

And as Elaine's father, the old Baron, welcomed the knight, Lavaine

and Elaine whispered together, 'This is better than to see many

knights passing on their way to Camelot.'

And Lancelot stayed at Astolat till evening, and he told many tales

of Arthur's court.

As Elaine and Lavaine listened to his voice, and looked at his

face, with the scars of many battles on it, they loved him. 'I will

be his squire and follow him,' thought Lavaine, and Elaine wished

that she might follow the strange knight too. But Sir Torre, the

grave elder brother, looked gloomily at the stranger, and wished he

had not come to Astolat.

In the evening Sir Lancelot told the Baron how he was going in

disguise to the tournament, and how, by mistake, he had brought his

own shield with him. 'If you can lend me another, I will leave my

shield with you till I come back from Camelot,' said the knight.

Then they gave him Sir Torre's shield, for Sir Torre had been

wounded in his first battle, and could not go to the tournament.

And Elaine came running gladly to take the strange knight's shield

under her care. But none of them knew that it was Sir Lancelot's

shield, for he had not told them his name.

And Elaine, carrying the shield with her, climbed the tower stair,

up to her own little room. And she put the shield carefully into a

corner, thinking, 'I will sew a cover for it, to keep it safe and

bright.' Then she went downstairs again, and saw that the knight

was going, and that Lavaine was going too.

'He has asked the knight to take him as his squire,' she thought.

'But although I cannot go,' she murmured sadly, 'I can ask him to

wear my favour at the tournament.' For in those days a knight often

wore the colours of the lady who loved him.

Very shyly Elaine told the knight her wish. Would he wear her

favour at the tournament? It was a red sleeve, embroidered with

white pearls.

Lancelot thought how fair Elaine was, as she looked up at him with

love and trust in her eyes, but he told her gently that he had

never yet worn a lady's favour, and that he could not wear hers.

'If you have never worn one before, wear this,' she urged timidly.

'It will make your disguise more complete.' And Lancelot knew that

what she said was true, and he took the red sleeve embroidered with

pearls, and tied it on his helmet.

So Elaine was glad, and after the knight and Lavaine had ridden

away, she went up the turret stair again to her little room. She

took the shield from the corner, and handled the bruises and dints

in it lovingly, and made pictures to herself of all the battles and

tournaments it had been through with her knight.

Then Elaine sat down and sewed, as Sir Torre would have wise

maidens do. But what she sewed was a beautiful cover for the

shield, and that Sir Torre would not have her do, for he cared

neither for the strange knight nor his shield.

Lancelot rode on towards Camelot, with Lavaine as his squire, till

they came to a wood where a hermit lived. And they stayed at the

hermitage all night, and the next morning they rode on till they

reached Camelot.

And when Lavaine saw the King sitting on a high throne, ready to

judge which knight was worthy to have the diamond, he did not think

of the grandeur of the throne, nor of the King's marvellous dress

of rich gold, nor of the jewels in his crown. He could think only

of the nobleness and beauty of the great King's face, and wish that

his fair sister Elaine might see him too.

Then many brave knights began to fight, and all wondered why Sir

Lancelot was not there. And they wondered more at the strange

knight, with the bare shield and the red sleeve with pearls on his

helmet, who fought so bravely and overthrew the others one by one.

And the King said, 'Surely this is Sir Lancelot himself.' But when

he saw the lady's favour on the knight's helmet, he said, 'No, it

cannot be Sir Lancelot.'

When at last the tournament was over, the King proclaimed that the

strange knight who wore the red sleeve embroidered with pearls had

won the prize, and he called him to come to take the diamond.

But no one came, and the knight with the red sleeve was nowhere to

be seen. For Sir Lancelot had been wounded in his last fight, and

when it was over, had ridden hastily from the field, calling

Lavaine to follow. And when they had ridden a little way into the

wood, Sir Lancelot fell from his horse. 'The head of the spear is

still in my side,' he moaned; 'draw it out, Lavaine.'

At first Lavaine was afraid, for he thought of the pain it would

give the knight, and he was afraid too that the wound would bleed

till his knight bled to death. But because Sir Lancelot was in

great suffering, Lavaine at last took courage, and pulled the head

of the spear out of Lancelot's side. Then he, with great

difficulty, helped the knight on to his horse, and slowly and

painfully they rode towards the hermitage.

They reached it at last, and the hermit came out and called two of

his servants to carry the knight into his cell; and they unarmed

him and put him to bed. Then the hermit dressed the knight's wound

and gave him wine to drink.

When King Arthur found the strange knight had disappeared, and

heard that he was wounded, he said that the prize should be sent to

so gallant a victor. 'He was tired and wounded, and cannot have

ridden far,' said the King. And turning to Sir Gawaine, he gave him

the diamond, and told him to go and find the knight and give him

the prize he had won so bravely.

But Sir Gawaine did not want to obey the King. He did not want to

leave the feasting and merriment that followed the tournament. Yet

since all Arthur's knights had taken a vow of obedience, Gawaine

was ashamed not to go, so sulkily, like no true knight, he left the

feast.

And Sir Gawaine rode through the wood and past the hermitage where

the wounded knight lay; and because he was thinking only of his own

disappointment, his search was careless, and he did not see the

shelter Sir Lancelot had found. He rode on till he came to

Astolat. And when Elaine and her father and her brother Sir Torre

saw the knight, they called to him to come in and tell them about

the tournament, and who had won the prize.

Then Sir Gawaine told how the knight with the red sleeve

embroidered with white pearls had gained the prize, but how, being

wounded, he had ridden away without claiming it. He told too how

the King had sent him to find the unknown knight and to give him

the diamond.

But because Elaine was very fair, and because he did not greatly

wish to do the order of the King, Sir Gawaine lingered there,

wandering in the old castle garden, with 'the Lily Maid of

Astolat.' And he told Elaine courtly tales of lords and ladies, and

tried to win her love, but she cared for no one but the knight

whose shield she guarded.

One day, as Elaine grew impatient with the idle Sir Gawaine, she

said she would show him the shield the strange knight had left with

her. 'If you know the arms engraved on the shield, you will know

the name of the knight you seek, and perhaps find him the sooner,'

she said.

And when Sir Gawaine saw the shield he cried, 'It is the shield of

Sir Lancelot, the noblest knight in Arthur's court.'

Elaine touched the shield lovingly, and murmured, 'The noblest

knight in Arthur's court.'

'You love Sir Lancelot, and will know where to find him,' said Sir

Gawaine. 'I will give you the diamond, and you shall fulfil the

King's command.'

And Sir Gawaine rode away from Astolat, kissing the hands of the

fair Elaine, and leaving the diamond with her. And when he reached

the court he told the lords and ladies about the fair maid of

Astolat who loved Sir Lancelot. 'He wore her favour, and she guards

his shield,' he said.

But when the King heard that Sir Gawaine had come back, without

finding the strange knight, and leaving the diamond with the fair

maid of Astolat, he was displeased. 'You have not served me as a

true knight,' he said gravely; and Sir Gawaine was silent, for he

remembered how he had lingered at Astolat.

When Elaine took the diamond from Sir Gawaine she went to her

father. 'Let me go to find the wounded knight and Lavaine,' she

said. 'I will nurse the knight as maidens nurse those who have worn

their favours.' And her father let her go.

With the grave Sir Torre to guard her, Elaine rode into the wood,

and near the hermitage she saw Lavaine.

'Take me to Sir Lancelot,' cried the Fair Elaine. And Lavaine

marvelled that she knew the knight's name.

Then Elaine told her brother about Sir Gawaine, and his careless

search for Lancelot, and she showed him the diamond she brought for

the wounded knight.

'Take me to him,' she cried again. And as they went, Sir Torre

turned and rode gloomily back to Astolat, for it did not please him

that the Fair Elaine should love Sir Lancelot.

When Lavaine and Elaine reached the hermitage, the hermit welcomed

the fair maid, and took her to the cell where Lancelot lay.

'The knight is pale and thin,' said Elaine; 'I will nurse him.'

Day by day and for many nights Elaine nursed him tenderly as a

maiden should, till at last one glad morning the hermit told her

she had saved the knight's life.

Then when Sir Lancelot grew stronger, Elaine gave him the diamond,

and told him how the King had sent him the prize he had won so

hardly. And Lancelot grew restless, and longed to be at the King's

court once more.

When the knight was able to ride, he went back to Astolat with

Elaine and Lavaine. And as he rested there, he thought, 'Before I

go, I must thank the Lily Maid, and reward her for all she has done

for me.'

But when he asked Elaine how he could reward her, she would answer

only that she loved him, and wished to go to court with him, as

Lavaine would do.

'I cannot take you with me,' said the knight courteously; 'but

when you are wedded, I will give you and your husband a thousand

pounds every year.'

But Elaine wanted nothing but to be with Sir Lancelot.

'My Lily Maid will break her heart,' said her father sadly, 'unless

the knight treats her less gently.'

But Sir Lancelot could not be unkind to the maid who had nursed him

so tenderly. Only, next morning when he rode away, carrying his

shield with him, though he knew Elaine watched him from her turret

window, he neither looked up nor waved farewell. And Elaine knew

she would never see Sir Lancelot again.

Then day by day she grew more sad and still. 'She will die,' said

her father sadly, as he watched her; and the grave Sir Torre

sobbed, for he loved his sister dearly.

One day Elaine sent for her father to come to her little turret

room.

'Promise me that when I die you will do as I wish. Fasten the

letter I shall write tightly in my hand, and clothe me in my

fairest dress. Carry me down to the river and lay me in the barge,

and, alone with our old dumb servant, let me be taken to the

palace.'

And her father promised. And when Elaine died there was great

sadness in Astolat.

Then her father took the letter and bound it in her hand, and by

her side he placed a lily. And they clothed her in her fairest

dress, and carried her down to the river, and laid her in the

barge, alone with the old dumb servant.

And the barge floated quietly down the stream, guided by the old

dumb man.

Then when it reached the palace steps, it stopped, and the King and

the Queen and all the knights and ladies came to see the strange

sight.

And the King took the letter from the fair maid's hand and read it

aloud.

'I am the Lily Maid of Astolat, and because Sir Lancelot left me, I

make unto all ladies my moan. Pray for my soul.'

When they heard it the lords and ladies wept with pity.

And Sir Lancelot buried Elaine sadly. And sometimes when those who

loved him were jealous and unkind, he thought tenderly of the pure

and simple love of the Lily Maid of Astolat.

[Illustration: THE LILY MAID OF ASTOLAT

Page 44]

PELLEAS AND ETTARDE

Far away in a dreary land there lived a lad called Pelleas. The men

were rough and the women grave in the dreary land where Pelleas

lived.

To this far-away country there had come tales of the gay lords and

ladies of Arthur's court.

Pelleas heard, in great astonishment, that the men in Arthur's

country were brave and gentle, and that the women smiled. He would

go away from his own land, he thought, and see these strange and

happy people.

Soon the rough men in his country laughed at Pelleas, for he began

to grow brave and gentle like the knights who were so often in his

thoughts.

And the grave women looked at each other in surprise, as they saw

the lad's bright face and caught the smile on his lips. Pelleas

had been dreaming about the gay ladies he had heard of, till some

of their gladness had passed into his face.

When he was older Pelleas left his country and all the land that

belonged to him there. He would take his horse and his sword and

ask the great King Arthur to make him one of his knights, for had

he not learned knightly ways from the wonderful tales he had heard

long ago?

After many days Pelleas reached the court. And when the King had

listened to the young man's story, and had seen his beauty and

strength, he gladly made him his knight.

Then Pelleas was ready to begin his adventures. He would go to

Carleon, where, for three days, the King's tournament was to be

held.

The King had promised a golden circlet and a good sword to the

knight who showed himself the strongest. The golden circlet was to

be given to the fairest lady in the field, and she was to be called

the 'Queen of Beauty.'

On his way to Carleon, Pelleas rode along a hot and dusty road.

There were no trees to shelter him from the scorching sun, but he

rode on steadfastly, for he knew that a great shady forest lay

before him.

When at last Pelleas reached the forest, he was so hot and tired

that he dismounted, and tying his horse to a tree, he lay down

gratefully under a large oak and fell asleep.

Sounds of laughter and merriment woke him, and opening his eyes he

saw a group of maidens close by.

Pelleas was bewildered. Could they be wild woodland nymphs, he

thought, as, only half-awake, he lay there, and watched them

flitting in and out among the tall trees.

They wore bright dresses, blue and yellow and purple, and to

Pelleas the forest seemed all aglow.

The maidens were talking together, and looking first in one

direction and then in another. They were lost in the forest, on

their way to the great tournament at Carleon.

Then the lost maidens caught sight of the knight, lying

half-asleep under the oak-tree. 'He will be able to show us the

way,' they said joyfully to one another, for they guessed that he

too was on his way to the tournament.

'I will speak to the knight,' said the Lady Ettarde, the tallest

and most beautiful of all the maidens, and she left the others and

went towards Pelleas. But when she told the knight that she and her

lords and ladies had lost their way, and asked him to tell her how

to reach Carleon, he only looked at her in silence. Was she one of

the woodland nymphs? Was he still dreaming, and was she the lady of

his dreams?

As the lady still stood there, he roused himself and tried to

speak. But because he was bewildered by her beauty, he stammered

and answered foolishly.

The Lady Ettarde turned to the merry lords and ladies who had

followed her. 'The knight cannot speak, though he is so strong and

good-looking,' she said scornfully.

But Sir Pelleas was wide-awake at last. He sprang to his feet, and

told the Lady Ettarde that he had been dreaming, and that she had

seemed to him a part of his dream. 'But I too am going to Carleon,'

he added, 'and I will show you the way.'

And as they rode through the forest Sir Pelleas was always at his

lady's side. When the branches were in her way he pushed them

aside, when the path was rough he guided her horse. In the evening

when the Lady Ettarde dismounted, Pelleas was there to help her,

and in the morning again it was Pelleas who brought her horse and

helped her to mount.

Now the Lady Ettarde was a great lady in her own land; knights who

had fought many battles and won great fame had served her, and she

cared nothing for the young untried knight's love and service.

'Still he looks so strong, that I will pretend to care for him,'

she thought, 'and then perhaps he will try to win the golden

circlet for me, and I shall be called the "Queen of Beauty."' For

the Lady Ettarde was a cruel and vain lady, and cared more for the

golden circlet and to be called the 'Queen of Beauty,' than for

the happiness of the young knight Pelleas. And so for many days the

Lady Ettarde was kind to Sir Pelleas, and at last she told him that

she would love him if he would win the golden circlet for her.

'The lady of my dreams will love me,' the knight murmured. And

aloud he said proudly that if there were any strength in his right

arm, he would win the prize for the Lady Ettarde.

Then the lords and ladies that were with Ettarde pitied the young

knight, for they knew their lady only mocked him.

At last they all reached Carleon, and the next morning the

tournament began.

And the Lady Ettarde watched her knight merrily, as each day he

overcame and threw from their horses twenty men.

'The circlet will be mine,' she whispered to her lords and ladies.

But they looked at her coldly, for they knew how unkindly she would

reward Sir Pelleas.

At the end of three days the tournament was over, and King Arthur

proclaimed that the young knight Pelleas had won the golden circlet

and the sword.

[Illustration: SIR PELLEAS WAS ALWAYS AT HIS LADY'S SIDE

Page 49]

Then in the presence of all the people, Sir Pelleas took the golden

circlet and handed it to the Lady Ettarde, saying aloud that she

was the fairest lady on the field and the Queen of Beauty.

The Lady Ettarde was so pleased with her prize, that for a day or

two she was kind to her knight, but soon she grew tired of him, and

wished that she might never see him again.

Still even when she was unkind, Sir Pelleas was happy, for he

trusted the beautiful lady, and said to himself, 'She proves me, to

see if I really love her.'

But the Lady Ettarde knew she would never love Sir Pelleas, even if

he died for her.

Then her ladies were angry, as they saw how she mocked the knight,

for they knew that greater and fairer ladies would have loved Sir

Pelleas for his strength and great knightliness.