King Arthur armed himself in the morning, as I told you and began to
tell, to go to the chapel of S. Augustine. Said the Queen to him.
"Whom will you take with you?"
"Lady," saith he, "No company will I have thither, save God only, for
well may you understand by this adventure that hath befallen, that God
will not allow I should have none with me."
"Sir," saith she, "God be guard of your body, and grant you return
safely so as that you may have the will to do well, whereby shall your
praise be lifted up that is now sore cast down."
"Lady," saith he, "May God remember it."
His destrier was brought to the mounting-stage, and the King mounted
thereon all armed. Messire Ywain li Aoutres lent him his shield and
spear. When the King had hung the shield at his neck and held the
spear in his hand, sword-girt, on the tall destrier armed, well seemed
he in the make of his body and in his bearing to be a knight of great
pith and hardiment. He planteth himself so stiffly in the stirrups
that he maketh the saddlebows creak again and the destrier stagger
under him that was right stout and swift, and he smiteth him of his
spurs, and the horse maketh answer with a great leap. The Queen was at
the windows of the hall, and as many as five-and-twenty knights were
all come to the mounting-stage. When the King departed, "Lords," saith
the Queen, "How seemeth you of the King? Seemeth he not a goodly man?"
"Yea, certes, Lady, and sore loss is it to the world that he followeth
not out his good beginning, for no king nor prince is known better
learned of all courtesy nor of all largesse than he, so he would do
like as he was wont." With that the knights hold their peace, and King
Arthur goeth away a great pace. And he entereth into a great forest
adventurous, and rideth the day long until he cometh about evensong
into the thick of the forest. And he espied a little house beside a
little chapel, and it well seemed him to be a hermitage. King Arthur
rode thitherward and alighteth before this little house, and entereth
thereinto and draweth his horse after him, that had much pains to enter
in at the door, and laid his spear down on the ground and leant his
shield against the wall, and hath ungirded his sword and unlaced his
ventail. He looked before him and saw barley and provender, and so led
his horse thither and smote off his bridle, and afterwards hath shut
the door of the little house and locked it. And it seemed him that
there was a strife in the chapel. The ones were weeping so tenderly
and sweetly as it were angels, and the other spake so harshly as it
were fiends. The King heard such voices in the chapel and marvelled
much what it might be. He findeth a door in the little house that
openeth on a little cloister whereby one goeth to the chapel. The King
is gone thither and entereth into the little minster, and looketh
everywhere but seeth nought there, save the images and the crucifixes.
And he supposeth not that the strife of these voices cometh of them.
The voices ceased as soon as he was within. He marvelleth how it came
that this house and hermitage were solitary, and what had become of the
hermit that dwelt therein. He drew nigh the altar of the chapel and
beheld in front thereof a coffin all discovered, and he saw the hermit
lying therein all clad in his vestments, and seeth the long beard down
to his girdle, and his hands crossed upon his breast. There was a
cross above him, whereof the image came as far as his mouth, and he had
life in him yet, but he was nigh his end, being at the point of death.
The King was before the coffin a long space, and looked right fainly on
the hermit, for well it seemed him that he had been of a good life.
The night was fully come, but within was a brightness of light as if a
score of candles were lighted. He had a mind to abide there until that
the good man should have passed away. He would fain have sate him down
before the coffin, when a voice warned him right horribly to begone
thence, for that it was desired to make a judgment within there, that
might not be made so long as he were there. The King departed, that
would willingly have remained there, and so returned back into the
little house, and sate him down on a seat whereon the hermit wont to
sir. And he heareth the strife and the noise begin again within the
chapel, and the ones he heareth speaking high and the others low, and
he knoweth well by the voices, that the ones are angels and the others
devils. And he heareth that the devils are distraining on the hermit's
soul, and that judgment will presently be given in their favour,
whereof make they great joy. King Arthur is grieved in his heart when
he heareth that the angels' voices are stilled. The King is so heavy,
that no desire hath he neither to eat nor to drink. And while he
sitteth thus, stooping his head toward the ground, full of vexation and
discontent, he heareth in the chapel the voice of a Lady that spake so
sweet and clear, that no man in this earthly world, were his grief and
heaviness never so sore, but and he had heard the sweet voice of her
pleading would again have been in joy. She saith to the devils:
"Begone from hence, for no right have ye over the soul of this good
man, whatsoever he may have done aforetime, for in my Son's service and
mine own is he taken, and his penance hath he done in this hermitage of
the sins that he hath done."
"True, Lady," say the devils, "But longer had he served us than he hath
served you and your Son. For forty years or more hath he been a
murderer and robber in this forest, whereas in this hermitage but five
years hath he been. And now you Wish to thieve him from us."
"I do not. No wish have I to take him from you by theft, for had he
been taken in your service in suchwise as he hath been taken in mine,
yours would he have been, all quit."
The devils go their way all discomfit and aggrieved; and the sweet
Mother of our Lord God taketh the soul of the hermit, that was departed
of his body, and so commendeth it to the angels and archangels that
they make present thereof to Her dear Son in Paradise. And the angels
take it and begin to sing for joy "Te Deum laudamus". And the Holy
Lady leadeth them and goeth her way along with them. Josephus maketh
remembrance of this history and telleth us that this worthy man was
named Calixtus.