Lancelot hath set him forth again upon his way, and rideth by the high
forests and findeth holds and hermitages enough, but the story maketh
not remembrance of all the hostels wherein he harboured him. So far
hath he ridden that he is come forth of the forest and findeth a right
fair meadow-land all loaded with flowers, and a river ran in the midst
there of that was right fair and broad, and there was forest upon the
one side and the other, and the meadow lands were wide and far betwixt
the river and the forest. Lancelot looketh on the river before him and
seeth a man rowing a great boat, and seeth within the boat two knights,
white and bald, and a damsel, as it seemed him, that held in her lap
the head of a knight that lay upon a mattress of straw and was covered
with a coverlid of marten's fur, and another damsel sate at his feet.
There was a knight within in the midst of the boat that was fishing
with an angle, the rod whereof seemeth of gold, and right great fish he
took. A little cock-boat followed the boat, wherein he set the fish he
took. Lancelot cometh anigh the bank the swiftest he may, and so
saluteth the knights and damsels, and they return his salute right
sweetly.
"Lords," saith Lancelot, "is there no castle nigh at hand nor no
harbour?"
"Yea, Sir," say they, "Beyond that mountain, right fair and rich, and
this river runneth thither all round about it."
"Lords, whose castle is it?"
"Sir," say they, "It is King Fisherman's, and the good knights lodge
there when he is in this country; but such knights have been harboured
there as that the lord of the land hath had good right to plain him
thereof."
The knights go rowing along the river, and Lancelot rideth until he
cometh to the foot of the mountain and findeth a hermitage beside a
spring, and bethinketh him, since it behoveth him to go to so high a
hostel and so rich, where the Holy Graal appeareth, he will confess him
to the good man. He alighteth and confesseth to the good man, and
rehearseth all his sins, and saith that of all thereof doth he repent
him save only one, and the hermit asketh him what it is whereof he is
unwilling to repent.
"Sir," saith Lancelot, "it seemeth to me the fairest sin and the
sweetest that ever I committed."
"Fair Sir," saith the hermit, "Sin is sweet to do, but right bitter be
the wages thereof; neither is there any sin that is fair nor seemly,
albeit there be some sins more dreadfuller than other."
"Sir," saith Lancelot, "this sin will I reveal to you of my lips, but
of my heart may I never repent me thereof. I love my Lady, which is
the Queen, more than aught else that liveth, and albeit one of the best
Kings on live hath her to wife. The affection seemeth me so good and
so high that I cannot let go thereof, for, so rooted is it in my heart
that thence may it nevermore depart, and the best knighthood that is in
me cometh to me only of her affection."
"Alas!" saith the hermit, "Sinner of mortal sin, what is this that you
have spoken? Never may no knighthood come of such wantonness that
shall not cost you right dear! A traitor are you toward our earthly
lord, and a murderer toward Our Saviour. Of the seven deadly sins, you
are labouring under the one whereof the delights are the falsest of
any, wherefore dearly shall you aby thereof, save you repent you
forthwith."
"Sir," saith Lancelot, "never the more do I desire to cast it from me."
"As much," saith the hermit, "is that as to say that you ought long
since to have cast it from you and renounced it. For so long as you
maintain it, so long are you an enemy of the Saviour!"
"Ha, Sir," saith Lancelot, "She hath in her such beauty and worth and
wisdom and courtesy and nobleness that never ought she to be forgotten
of any that hath loved her!"