The Story of Sir Pellias
_Here followeth the story of Sir Pellias, surnamed by many the Gentle
Knight.
For Sir Pellias was of such a sort that it was said of him that all
women loved him without disadvantage to themselves, and that all men
loved him to their great good advantage.
Wherefore, when in the end he won for his beloved that beautiful Lady of
the Lake, who was one of the chiefest damoiselles of Faëry, and when he
went to dwell as lord paramount in that wonderful habitation which no
other mortal than he and Sir Launcelot of the Lake had ever beheld, then
were all men rejoiced at his great good fortune--albeit all the Court of
King Arthur grieved that he had departed so far away from them never to
return again.
So I believe that you will have pleasure in reading the history of the
things concerning Sir Pellias hereinafter written for your
edification._
[Illustration: Sir Pellias, the Gentle Knight.]
[Illustration] Chapter First.
_How Queen Guinevere Went a-Maying and of How Sir Pellias Took Upon Him
a Quest in Her Behalf._
[Sidenote: _Queen Guinevere goeth a-Maying._]
Now it befell upon a pleasant day in the spring-time, that Queen
Guinevere went a-Maying with a goodly company of Knights and Ladies of
her Court. And among those Knights were Sir Pellias, and Sir Geraint,
and Sir Dinadan, and Sir Aglaval, and Sir Agravaine, and Sir Constantine
of Cornwall, and sundry others, so that the like of that Court was
hardly to be found in all of the world, either then or before or since.
The day was exceedingly pleasant with the sunlight all yellow, like to
gold, and the breeze both soft and gentle. The small birds they sang
with very great joy, and all about there bloomed so many flowers of
divers sorts that the entire meadows were carpeted with their tender
green. So it seemed to Queen Guinevere that it was very good to be
abroad in the field and beneath the sky at such a season.
[Sidenote: _There cometh a damsel to the May party._]
Now as the Queen and her Court walked in great joy among the blossoms,
one of the damsels attendant upon the Lady Guinevere cried out of a
sudden, “Look! Look! Who is that cometh yonder?” Thereupon Queen
Guinevere lifted up her eyes, and she beheld that there came across the
meadows a damsel riding upon a milk-white palfrey, accompanied by three
pages clad in sky-blue raiment. That damsel was also clad entirely in
azure, and she wore a finely wrought chain of gold about her neck and a
fillet of gold about her brows, and her hair, which was as yellow as
gold, was wrapped all about with bands of blue ribbon embroidered with
gold. And one of the pages that followed the damsel bare a square frame
of no very great size, and that the frame was enveloped and covered with
a curtain of crimson satin.
Now when the Queen beheld that goodly company approaching, she bade one
of the knights attendant upon her for to go forth to meet the damsel.
And the knight who went forth in obedience to her command was Sir
Pellias.
[Sidenote: _Sir Pellias talketh with the damsel._]
So when Sir Pellias met the damsel and her three pages, he spake to her
in this wise: “Fair damsel, I am commanded by yonder lady for to greet
you and to crave of you the favor of your name and purpose.”
“Sir Knight,” said the damsel, “I do perceive from your countenance and
address that you are some lord of very high estate and of great
nobility, wherefore I will gladly tell to you that my name is Parcenet,
and that I am a damsel belonging to the Court of a certain very high
dame who dwelleth at a considerable distance from here, and who is
called the Lady Ettard of Grantmesnle. Now I come hitherward desiring to
be admitted into the presence of Queen Guinevere. Accordingly, if you
can tell me whereabout I may find that noble lady, I shall assuredly be
very greatly beholden unto you.”
“Ha, Lady!” quoth Sir Pellias, “thou shalt not have very far to go to
find Queen Guinevere; for, behold! yonder she walketh, surrounded by her
Court of Lords and Ladies.” Then the damsel said, “I prithee bring me
unto her.”
So Sir Pellias led Parcenet unto the Queen, and Queen Guinevere received
her with great graciousness of demeanor, saying, “Damsel, what is it
that ye seek of us?”
[Sidenote: _The damsel telleth Queen Guinevere of the Lady Ettard._]
“Lady,” quoth the damsel, “I will tell you that very readily. The Lady
Ettard, my mistress, is considered by all in those parts where she
dwelleth to be the most beautiful lady in the world. Now, of late, there
hath come such a report of your exceeding beauty that the Lady Ettard
hath seen fit for to send me hitherward to see with mine own eyes if
that which is recorded of you is soothly true. And indeed, Lady, now
that I stand before you, I may not say but that you are the fairest dame
that ever mine eyes beheld unless it be the Lady Ettard aforesaid.”
Then Queen Guinevere laughed with very great mirth. And she said, “It
appears to me to be a very droll affair that thou shouldst have
travelled so great a distance for so small a matter.” Then she said,
“Tell me, damsel, what is that thy page beareth so carefully wrapped up
in that curtain of crimson satin?”
“Lady,” quoth the damsel, “it is a true and perfect likeness of the Lady
Ettard, who is my mistress.”
Then Queen Guinevere said, “Show it to me.”
[Sidenote: _The damsel showeth the Lady Ettard’s picture to the Queen
and her Court._]
Upon this the page who bore the picture dismounted from his palfrey and,
coming to Queen Guinevere, he kneeled down upon one knee and uncovered
the picture so that the Queen and her Court might look upon it.
Thereupon they all beheld that that picture was painted very cunningly
upon a panel of ivory framed with gold and inset with many jewels of
divers colors. And they saw that it was the picture of a lady of such
extraordinary beauty that all they who beheld it marvelled thereat.
“Hey, damsel!” quoth Queen Guinevere, “thy lady is, indeed, graced with
wonderful beauty. Now if she doth in sooth resemble that picture, then I
believe that her like to loveliness is not to be found anywhere in the
world.”
Upon this Sir Pellias spake out and said, “Not so, Lady; for I do
protest, and am willing to maintain my words with the peril of my body,
that thou thyself art much more beautiful than that picture.”
“Hey day, Sir Knight!” quoth the damsel Parcenet, “it is well that thou
dost maintain that saying so far away from Grantmesnle; for at that
place is a certain knight, hight Sir Engamore of Malverat, who is a very
strong knight indeed, and who maintaineth the contrary to thy saying in
favor of the Lady Ettard against all comers who dare to encounter him.”
[Sidenote: _Sir Pellias assumes the adventure in honor of the Queen._]
Then Sir Pellias kneeled down before Queen Guinevere, and set his palms
together. “Lady,” he said, “I do pray thee of thy grace that thou wilt
so far honor me as to accept me for thy true knight in this matter. For
I would fain assay an adventure in thy behalf if I have thy permission
for to do so. Wherefore, if thou grantest me leave, I will straightway
go forth to meet this knight of whom the damsel speaketh, and I greatly
hope that when I find him I shall cause his overthrow to the increasing
of thy glory and honor.”
Then Queen Guinevere laughed again with pure merriment. “Sir,” quoth
she, “it pleases me beyond measure that thou shouldst take so small a
quarrel as this upon thee in my behalf. For if, so be, thou dost assume
so small a quarrel, then how much more wouldst thou take a serious
quarrel of mine upon thee? Wherefore I do accept thee very joyfully for
my champion in this affair. So go thou presently and arm thyself in such
a way as may be fitting for this adventure.”
“Lady,” said Sir Pellias, “if I have thy leave, I will enter into this
affair clad as I am. For I entertain hopes that I shall succeed in
winning armor and accoutrements upon the way, in the which case this
adventure will be still more to thy credit than it would otherwise be.”
At this the Queen was very much pleased, that her knight should
undertake so serious an adventure clad only in holiday attire; wherefore
she said, “Let it be as thou wouldst have it.” Thereupon she bade her
page, Florian, for to go fetch the best horse that he might obtain for
Sir Pellias; and Florian, running with all speed, presently returned
with a noble steed, so black of hue that I believe there was not a
single white hair upon him.
Then Sir Pellias gave adieu to Queen Guinevere, and her merry May-court,
and they gave him adieu and great acclaim, and thereupon he mounted his
horse and rode away with the damsel Parcenet and the three pages clad in
blue.
Now when these had gone some distance the damsel Parcenet said, “Sir, I
know not thy name or thy condition, or who thou art?”
Unto this Sir Pellias said, “Damsel, my name is Pellias and I am a
knight of King Arthur’s Round Table.”
[Sidenote: _Sir Pellias and Parcenet discourse together._]
At that Parcenet was very much astonished, for Sir Pellias was held by
many to be the best knight-at-arms alive, saving only King Arthur and
King Pellinore. Wherefore she cried out, “Messire, it will assuredly be
a very great honor for Sir Engamore to have to do with so famous a
knight as thou.” Unto this Sir Pellias said, “Damsel, I think there are
several knights of King Arthur’s Round Table who are better knights than
I.” But Parcenet said, “I cannot believe that to be the case.”
Then after awhile Parcenet said to Sir Pellias, “Messire, how wilt thou
get thyself armor for to fight Sir Engamore?” “Maiden,” said Sir
Pellias, “I do not know at these present where I shall provide me armor;
but before the time cometh for me to have to do with Sir Engamore, I
have faith that I shall find armor fit for my purpose. For thou must
know that it is not always the defence that a man weareth upon his body
that bringeth him success, but more often it is the spirit that
uplifteth him unto his undertakings.”
Then Parcenet said, “Sir Pellias, I do not believe that it is often the
case that a lady hath so good a knight as thou for to do battle in her
behalf.” To which Sir Pellias said very cheerfully, “Damsel, when thy
time cometh I wish that thou mayst have a very much better knight to
serve thee than I.” “Sir,” quoth Parcenet, “such a thing as that is not
likely to befall me.” At the which Sir Pellias laughed with great
lightness of heart. Then Parcenet said, “Heigh ho! I would that I had a
good knight for to serve me.”
To this Sir Pellias made very sober reply, “Maiden, the first one that I
catch I will give unto thee for thy very own. Now wouldst thou have him
fair or dark, or short or tall? For if thou wouldst rather have him
short and fair I will let the tall, dark one go; but if thou wouldst
have him tall and dark, I will let go the other sort.”
Then Parcenet looked very steadily at Sir Pellias, and she said, “I
would have him about as tall as thou art, and with the same color of
hair and eyes, and with a straight nose like unto thine, and with a good
wit such as thou hast.”
“Alas!” said Sir Pellias, “I would that thou hadst told me this before
we had come so far from Camelot; for I could easily have got thee such a
knight at that place. For they have them there in such plenty that they
keep them in wicker cages, and sell them two for a farthing.” Whereat
Parcenet laughed very cheerfully, and said, “Then Camelot must be a very
wonderful place, Sir Pellias.”
So, with very merry discourse they journeyed upon their way with great
joy and good content, taking much pleasure in the spring-time and the
pleasant meadows whereon they travelled, being without care of any sort,
and heart-full of cheerfulness and good-will.
That night they abided at a very quaint, pleasant hostelry that stood at
the outskirts of the Forest of Usk, and the next morning they departed
betimes in the freshness of the early day, quitting that place and
entering into the forest shadows.
[Sidenote: _Sir Pellias and Parcenet come to the Forest of Adventure._]
Now, after they had travelled a considerable distance in that forest,
the damsel Parcenet said to Sir Pellias, “Sir, do you know what part of
the woods this is?” “Nay,” said Sir Pellias. “Well,” said Parcenet,
“this part of the woodland is sometimes called Arroy, and is sometimes
called the Forest of Adventure. For I must tell you it is a very
wonderful place, full of magic of sundry sorts. For it is said that no
knight may enter into this forest but some adventure shall befall him.”
“Damsel,” said Sir Pellias, “that which thou tellest me is very good
news. For, maybe, if we should fall in with some adventure at this place
I may then be able to obtain armor suitable for my purpose.”
So they entered the Forest of Adventure forthwith, and then travelled
therein for a long way, marvelling greatly at the aspect of that place
into which they were come. For the Forest was very dark and silent and
wonderfully strange and altogether different from any other place that
they had ever seen. Wherefore it appeared to them that it would not be
at all singular if some extraordinary adventure should befall them.
[Sidenote: _They find an old woman beside the fountain._]
So after they had travelled in this wise for a considerable pass they
came of a sudden out of those thicker parts of the woodland to where was
an opening of considerable extent. And there they beheld before them a
violent stream of water that flowed very turbulently and with great
uproar of many noises. And they saw that by the side of the stream of
water there was a thorn-tree, and that underneath the thorn-tree was a
bank of green moss, and that upon the bank of moss there sat an aged
woman of a very woful appearance. For that old woman was extraordinarily
withered with age, and her eyes were all red as though with a continual
weeping of rheum, and many bristles grew upon her cheeks and her chin,
and her face was covered with such a multitude of wrinkles that there
was not any place that was free from wrinkles.
Now when that old woman beheld Sir Pellias and Parcenet and the three
pages approaching where she sat, she cried out in a loud voice, “Sir,
wilt thou not bear me over this water upon thy horse? For, lo! I am very
old and feeble and may not cross this river by myself.”
Then Parcenet rebuked the old woman, saying, “Peace, be still! Who art
thou to ask this noble knight for to do thee such a service as that?”
[Sidenote: _Sir Pellias carries the old woman across the water._]
Then Sir Pellias was not pleased with Parcenet, wherefore he said,
“Damsel, thou dost not speak properly in this matter, for that which
beseemeth a true knight is to give succor unto anyone soever who needeth
his aid. For King Arthur is the perfect looking-glass of knighthood, and
he hath taught his knights to give succor unto all who ask succor of
them, without regarding their condition.” So saying Sir Pellias
dismounted from his horse and lifted the old woman up upon the saddle
thereof. Then he himself mounted once more and straightway rode into the
ford of the river and so came across the torrent with the old woman in
safety to the other side. And Parcenet followed him, marvelling very
greatly at his knightliness, and the three pages followed her.
[Sidenote: _Of the wonderful Lady of the Lake._]
Now when they had reached the other side of the water, Sir Pellias
dismounted with intent to aid the old woman to alight from the horse.
But she waited not for his aid, but immediately leaped down very lightly
from where she was. And, lo! Sir Pellias beheld that she whom he had
thought to be only an aged and withered beldame was, in truth, a very
strange, wonderful lady of extraordinary beauty. And, greatly
marvelling, he beheld that she was clad in apparel of such a sort as
neither he nor any who were there had ever beheld before. And because of
her appearance he was aware that she was not like any ordinary mortal,
but that she was doubtless of enchantment. For he perceived that her
face was of a wonderful clearness, like to ivory for whiteness, and that
her eyes were very black and extraordinarily bright, like unto two
jewels set into ivory; and he perceived that she was clad all in green
from head to foot and that her hair was long and perfectly black and
like to fine silk for softness and for glossiness; and he perceived that
she had about her neck a collar of opal stones and emeralds inset into
gold, and that about her wrists were bracelets of finely wrought gold
inset with opal stones and emeralds. Wherefore from all these
circumstances he knew that she must be fay.
(For thus was the Lady Nymue of the Lake; and so had she appeared unto
King Arthur, and so did she appear unto Sir Pellias and those who were
with him.)
So, beholding the wonderful magical quality of that lady, Sir Pellias
kneeled down before her and set his hands together, palm to palm. But
the Lady of the Lake said, “Sir, why dost thou kneel to me?” “Lady,”
quoth Sir Pellias, “because thou art so wonderfully strange and
beautiful.” “Messire,” said the Lady of the Lake, “thou hast done a very
good service to me and art, assuredly, a very excellent knight.
Wherefore, arise and kneel no longer!” So Sir Pellias arose from his
knees and stood before her, and he said, “Lady, who art thou?” To the
which she made reply, “I am one who holdeth an exceedingly kind regard
toward King Arthur and all his knights. My name is Nymue and I am the
chiefest of those Ladies of the Lake of whom thou mayst have heard tell.
I took upon me that form of a sorry old woman for to test thy
knightliness, and, lo! I have not found thee amiss in worthy service.”
Then Sir Pellias said, “Lady, thou hast assuredly done me great favor in
these.” Upon that the Lady of the Lake smiled upon Sir Pellias very
kindly, and she said, “Sir, I have a mind to do thee a greater favor
than that.”
[Sidenote: _The Lady of the Lake giveth Sir Pellias the collar of gold
and jewels._]
Therewith, so saying, she immediately took from about her neck that
collar of opal stones, of emeralds and gold, and hung it about the
shoulders of Sir Pellias, so that it hung down upon his breast with a
very wonderful glory of variegated colors.
“Keep this,” she said, “for it is of very potent magic.”
Upon that she vanished instantly from the sight of those who were there,
leaving them astonished and amazed beyond measure at what had befallen.
And Sir Pellias was like one who was in a dream, for he wist not whether
that which he had beheld was a vision, or whether he had seen it with
his waking eyes. Wherefore he mounted upon his horse in entire silence,
as though he knew not what he did. And likewise in entire silence he led
the way from that place. Nor did any of those others speak at that time;
only after they had gone a considerable distance Parcenet said, speaking
in a manner of fear, “Messire, that was a very wonderful thing that
befell us.” To which Sir Pellias said, “Yea, maiden.”
Now that necklace which the Lady of the Lake had hung about the neck of
Sir Pellias possessed such a virtue that whosoever wore it was beloved
of all those who looked upon him. For the collar was enchanted with that
peculiar virtue; but Sir Pellias was altogether unaware of that
circumstance, wherefore he only took joy to himself because of the
singular beauty of the jewel which the Lady of the Lake had given him.
[Illustration]
[Illustration: Sir Pellias encounters the Sorrowful Lady in Arroy.]
[Illustration] Chapter Second.
_How Sir Pellias Overcame a Red Knight, Hight Sir Adresack, and of How
He Liberated XXII Captives From That Knight’s Castle._
Now, after that wonderful happening, they journeyed continuously for a
great while. Nor did they pause at any place until they came, about an
hour after the prime of the day, to a certain part of the forest where
charcoal-burners were plying their trade. Here Sir Pellias commanded
that they should draw rein and rest for a while, and so they dismounted
for to rest and to refresh themselves, as he had ordained that they
should do.
[Sidenote: _There cometh a sorrowful lady and an esquire into the
forest._]
Now as they sat there refreshing themselves with meat and drink, there
came of a sudden from out of the forest a sound of great lamentation and
of loud outcry, and almost immediately there appeared from the thickets,
coming into that open place, a lady in woful array, riding upon a pied
palfrey. And behind her rode a young esquire, clad in colors of green
and white and seated upon a sorrel horse. And he also appeared to be
possessed of great sorrow, being in much disarray and very downcast of
countenance. And the lady’s face was all beswollen and inflamed with
weeping, and her hair hung down upon her shoulders with neither net nor
band for to stay it in place, and her raiment was greatly torn by the
brambles and much stained with forest travel. And the young esquire who
rode behind her came with a drooping head and a like woful disarray of
apparel, his cloak dragging behind him and made fast to his shoulder by
only a single point.
Now when Sir Pellias beheld the lady and the esquire in such sad estate,
he immediately arose from where he sat and went straightway to the lady
and took her horse by the bridle and stayed it where it was. And the
lady looked at him, yet saw him not, being altogether blinded by her
grief and distraction. Then Sir Pellias said to her, “Lady, what ails
thee that thou sorrowest so greatly?” Whereunto she made reply, “Sir, it
matters not, for thou canst not help me.” “How know ye that?” said Sir
Pellias, “I have a very good intention for to aid thee if it be possible
for me to do so.”
Then the lady looked more narrowly at Sir Pellias, and she perceived him
as though through a mist of sorrow. And she beheld that he was not clad
in armor, but only in a holiday attire of fine crimson cloth. Wherefore
she began sorrowing afresh, and that in great measure, for she deemed
that here was one who could give her no aid in her trouble. Wherefore
she said, “Sir, thy intentions are kind, but how canst thou look to give
me aid when thou hast neither arms nor defences for to help thee in
taking upon thee such a quarrel?” But Sir Pellias said, “Lady, I know
not how I may aid thee until that thou tellest me of thy sorrow. Yet I
have good hope that I may serve thee when I shall know what it is that
causes thee such disorder of mind.” Thereupon, still holding the horse
by the bridle, he brought the lady forward to that place where Parcenet
still sat beside the napkin spread with food with which they had been
refreshing themselves. And when he had come to that place, he, with all
gentleness, constrained the lady for to dismount from her horse. Then,
with equal gentleness, he compelled her to sit down upon the grass and
to partake of the food. And when she had done so, and had drunk some of
the wine, she found herself to be greatly refreshed and began to take to
herself more heart of grace. Thereupon, beholding her so far recovered,
Sir Pellias again demanded of her what was her trouble and besought her
that she would open her heart unto him.
So, being encouraged by his cheerful words, she told to Sir Pellias the
trouble that had brought her to that pass.
[Sidenote: _The sorrowful lady telleth her story._]
“Sir Knight,” she said, “the place where I dwell is a considerable
distance from this. Thence I came this morning with a very good knight,
hight Sir Brandemere, who is my husband. We have been married but for a
little over four weeks, so that our happiness until this morning was as
yet altogether fresh with us. Now this morning Sir Brandemere would take
me out a-hunting at the break of day, and so we went forth with a
brachet of which my knight was wonderfully fond. So, coming to a certain
place in the forest, there started up of a sudden from before us a doe,
which same the brachet immediately pursued with great vehemence of
outcry. Thereupon, I and my lord and this esquire followed thereafter
with very great spirit and enjoyment of the chase. Now, when we had
followed the doe and the hound for a great distance--the hound pursuing
the doe with a great passion of eagerness--we came to a certain place
where we beheld before us a violent stream of water which was crossed
by a long and narrow bridge. And we beheld that upon the other side of
the stream there stood a strong castle with seven towers, and that the
castle was built up upon the rocks in such a way that the rocks and the
castle appeared to be altogether like one rock.
“Now, as we approached the bridge aforesaid, lo! the portcullis of the
castle was lifted up and the drawbridge was let fall very suddenly and
with a great noise, and there immediately issued forth from out of the
castle a knight clad altogether in red. And all the trappings and the
furniture of his horse were likewise of red; and the spear which he bore
in his hand was of ash-wood painted red. And he came forth very
terribly, and rode forward so that he presently stood at the other end
of that narrow bridge. Thereupon he called out aloud to Sir Brandemere,
my husband, saying: ‘Whither wouldst thou go, Sir Knight?’ And unto him
Sir Brandemere made reply: ‘Sir, I would cross this bridge, for my
hound, which I love exceedingly, hath crossed here in pursuit of a doe.’
Then that Red Knight cried out in a loud voice, ‘Sir Knight, thou comest
not upon this bridge but at thy peril; for this bridge belongeth unto
me, and whosoever would cross it must first overthrow me or else he may
not cross.’
“Now, my husband, Sir Brandemere, was clad at that time only in a light
raiment such as one might wear for hunting or for hawking; only that he
wore upon his head a light bascinet enwrapped with a scarf which I had
given him. Ne’theless, he was so great of heart that he would not abide
any challenge such as that Red Knight had given unto him; wherefore,
bidding me and this esquire (whose name is Ponteferet) to remain upon
the farther side of the bridge, he drew his sword and rode forward to
the middle of the bridge with intent to force a way across if he was
able so to do. Whereupon, seeing that to be his intent, that Red Knight,
clad all in complete armor, cast aside his spear and drew his sword and
rode forward to meet my knight. So they met in the middle of the bridge,
and when they had thus met that Red Knight lifted himself in his stirrup
and smote my husband, Sir Brandemere, upon the crown of his bascinet
with his sword. And I beheld the blade of the Red Knight’s sword that it
cut through the bascinet of Sir Brandemere and deep into his brain-pan,
so that the blood ran down upon the knight’s face in great abundance.
Then Sir Brandemere straightway fell down from his horse and lay as
though he were gone dead.
“Having thus overthrown him, that Red Knight dismounted from his horse
and lifted up Sir Brandemere upon the horse whence he had fallen so
that he lay across the saddle. Then taking both horses by the bridles
the Red Knight led them straight back across the bridge and so into his
castle. And as soon as he had entered into the castle the portcullis
thereof was immediately closed behind him and the drawbridge was raised.
Nor did he pay any heed whatever either to me or to the esquire
Ponteferet, but he departed leaving us without any word of cheer; nor do
I now know whether my husband, Sir Brandemere, is living or dead, or
what hath befallen him.”
And as the lady spake these words, lo! the tears again fell down her
face in great abundance.
[Sidenote: _Sir Pellias assumes an adventure upon relief of the
sorrowful lady._]
Then Sir Pellias was very much moved with compassion, wherefore he said,
“Lady, thy case is, indeed, one of exceeding sorrowfulness, and I am
greatly grieved for thee. And, indeed, I would fain aid thee to all the
extent that is in my power. So, if thou wilt lead me to where is this
bridge and that grimly castle of which thou speakest, I make thee my vow
that I will assay to the best of my endeavor to learn of the whereabouts
of thy good knight, and as to what hath befallen him.”
“Sir,” said the lady, “I am much beholden unto thee for thy good will.
Yet thou mayst not hope for success shouldst thou venture to undertake
so grave an adventure as that without either arms or armor for to defend
thyself. For consider how grievously that Red Knight hath served my
husband, Sir Brandemere, taking no consideration as to his lack of arms
or defence. Wherefore, it is not likely that he will serve thee any more
courteously.” And to the lady’s words Parcenet also lifted up a great
voice, bidding Sir Pellias not to be so unwise as to do this thing that
he was minded to do. And so did Ponteferet, the esquire, also call out
upon Sir Pellias, that he should not do this thing, but that he should
at least take arms to himself ere he entered upon this adventure.
But to all that they said Sir Pellias replied, “Stay me not in that
which I would do, for I do tell you all that I have several times
undertaken adventures even more perilous than this and yet I have
’scaped with no great harm to myself.” Nor would he listen to anything
that the lady and the damsel might say, but, arising from that place, he
aided the lady and the damsel to mount their palfreys. Then mounting his
own steed, and the esquire and the pages having mounted their steeds,
the whole party immediately departed from that place.
[Sidenote: _They come to the castle of the Red Knight._]
So they journeyed for a great distance through the forest, the esquire,
Ponteferet, directing them how to proceed in such a way as should bring
them by and by to the castle of the Red Knight. So, at last they came
to a more open place in that wilderness where was a steep and naked
hill before them. And when they had reached to the top of that hill
they perceived beneath them a river, very turbulent and violent.
Likewise they saw that the river was spanned by a bridge, exceedingly
straight and narrow, and that upon the farther side of the bridge and
of the river there stood a very strong castle with seven tall towers.
Moreover the castle and the towers were built up upon the rocks, very
lofty and high, so that it was hard to tell where the rocks ceased and
the walls began, wherefore the towers and the walls appeared to be
altogether one rock of stone.
Then the esquire, Ponteferet, pointed with his finger, and said, “Sir
Knight, yonder is the castle of the Red Knight, and into it he bare Sir
Brandemere after he had been so grievously wounded.” Then Sir Pellias
said unto the lady, “Lady, I will presently inquire as to thy husband’s
welfare.”
Therewith he set spurs to his horse and rode down the hill toward the
bridge with great boldness. And when he had come nigher to the bridge,
lo! the portcullis of the castle was lifted and the drawbridge was let
fall with a great noise and tumult, and straightway there issued forth
from out of the castle a knight clad all in armor and accoutrements of
red, and this knight came forward with great speed toward the bridge’s
head. Then, when Sir Pellias saw him approaching so threateningly, he
said unto those who had followed him down the hill: “Stand fast where ye
are and I will go forth to bespeak this knight, and inquire into the
matter of that injury which he hath done unto Sir Brandemere.” Upon this
the esquire, Ponteferet, said unto him, “Stay, Sir Knight, thou wilt be
hurt.” But Sir Pellias said, “Not so, I shall not be hurt.”
So he went forth very boldly upon the bridge, and when the Red Knight
saw him approach, he said, “Ha! who art thou who darest to come thus
upon my bridge?”
Unto him Sir Pellias made reply, “It matters not who I am, but thou art
to know, thou discourteous knight, that I am come to inquire of thee
where thou hast disposed of that good knight Sir Brandemere, and to ask
of thee why thou didst entreat him so grievously a short time since.”
At this the Red Knight fell very full of wrath. “Ha! ha!” he cried
vehemently, “that thou shalt presently learn to thy great sorrow, for as
I have served him, so shall I quickly serve thee, so that in a little
while I shall bring thee unto him; then thou mayst ask him whatsoever
thou dost list. But seeing that thou art unarmed and without defence, I
would not do thee any bodily ill, wherefore I demand of thee that thou
shalt presently surrender thyself unto me, otherwise it will be very
greatly to thy pain and sorrow if thou compellest me to use force for to
constrain thy surrender.”
Then Sir Pellias said, “What! what! Wouldst thou thus assail a knight
who is altogether without arms or defence as I am?” And the Red Knight
said, “Assuredly shall I do so if thou dost not immediately yield
thyself unto me.”
“Then,” quoth Pellias, “thou art not fit for to be dealt with as
beseemeth a tried knight. Wherefore, should I encounter thee, thy
overthrow must be of such a sort as may shame any belted knight who
weareth golden spurs.”
[Sidenote: _Sir Pellias overthroweth the Red Knight with a great
stone._]
Thereupon he cast about his eyes for a weapon to fit his purpose, and he
beheld how that a certain huge stone was loose upon the coping of the
bridge. Now this stone was of such a size that five men of usual
strength could hardly lift it. But Sir Pellias lifted it forth from its
place with great ease, and, raising it with both hands, he ran quickly
toward that Red Knight and flung the rock at him with much force. And
the stone smote the Red Knight upon the middle of the shield and drave
it back upon his breast, with great violence. And the force of the blow
drave the knight backward from his saddle, so that he fell down to the
earth from his horse with a terrible tumult and lay upon the bridgeway
like one who was altogether dead.
And when they within the castle who looked forth therefrom, saw that
blow, and when they beheld the overthrow of the Red Knight, they lifted
up their voices in great lamentation so that the outcry thereof was
terrible to hear.
But Sir Pellias ran with all speed to the fallen knight and set his knee
upon his breast. And he unlaced his helmet and lifted it. And he beheld
that the face of the knight was strong and comely and that he was not
altogether dead.
So when Sir Pellias saw that the Red Knight was not dead, and when he
perceived that he was about to recover his breath from the blow that he
had suffered, he drew that knight’s misericordia from its sheath and set
the point to his throat, so that when the Red Knight awoke from his
swoon he beheld death, in the countenance of Sir Pellias and in the
point of the dagger.
So when the Red Knight perceived how near death was to him he besought
Sir Pellias for mercy, saying, “Spare my life unto me!” Whereunto Sir
Pellias said, “Who art thou?” And the knight said, “I am hight Sir
Adresack, surnamed of the Seven Towers.” Then Sir Pellias said to him,
“What hast thou done unto Sir Brandemere and how doth it fare with that
good knight?” And the Red Knight replied, “He is not so seriously
wounded as you suppose.”
Now when Sir Brandemere’s lady heard this speech she was greatly exalted
with joy, so that she smote her hands together, making great cry of
thanksgiving.
But Sir Pellias said, “Now tell me, Sir Adresack, hast thou other
captives beside that knight, Sir Brandemere, at thy castle?” To which
Sir Adresack replied, “Sir Knight, I will tell thee truly; there are in
my castle one and twenty other captives besides him: to wit, eighteen
knights and esquires of degree and three ladies. For I have defended
this bridge for a long time and all who have undertaken to cross it,
those have I taken captive and held for ransom. Wherefore I have taken
great wealth and gained great estate thereby.”
[Sidenote: _Sir Pellias layeth his injunctions upon the Red Knight._]
Then Sir Pellias said, “Thou art soothly a wicked and discourteous
knight so to serve travellers that come thy way, and I would do well for
to slay thee where thou liest. But since thou hast besought mercy of me
I will grant it unto thee, though I will do so only with great shame
unto thy knighthood. Moreover, if I spare to thee thy life there are
several things which thou must perform. First thou must go unto Queen
Guinevere at Camelot, and there must thou say unto her that the knight
who left her unarmed hath taken thine armor from thee and hath armed
himself therewith for to defend her honor. Secondly, thou must confess
thy faults unto King Arthur as thou hast confessed them unto me and thou
must beg his pardon for the same, craving that he, in his mercy, shall
spare thy life unto thee. These are the things that thou must perform.”
To this Sir Adresack said, “Very well, these things do I promise to
perform if thou wilt spare my life.”
[Sidenote: _Sir Pellias assumes the armor of Sir Adresack._]
Then Sir Pellias permitted him to arise and he came and stood before Sir
Pellias. And Sir Pellias summoned the esquire, Ponteferet, unto him, and
he said, “Take thou this knight’s armor from off of his body and put it
upon my body as thou knowest how to do.” And Ponteferet did as Sir
Pellias bade him. For he unarmed Sir Adresack and he clothed Sir Pellias
in Sir Adresack’s armor, and Sir Adresack stood ashamed before them all.
Then Sir Pellias said unto him, “Now take me into thy castle that I may
there liberate those captives that thou so wickedly holdest as
prisoners.” And Sir Adresack said, “It shall be done as thou dost
command.”
Thereupon they all went together unto the castle and into the castle,
which was an exceedingly stately place. And there they beheld a great
many servants and attendants, and these came at the command of Sir
Adresack and bowed themselves down before Sir Pellias. Then Sir Pellias
bade Sir Adresack for to summon the keeper of the dungeon, and Sir
Adresack did so. And Sir Pellias commanded the keeper that he should
conduct them unto the dungeon, and the keeper bowed down before him in
obedience.
Now when they had come to that dungeon they beheld it to be a very lofty
place and exceedingly strong. And there they found Sir Brandemere and
those others of whom Sir Adresack had spoken.
[Sidenote: _Sir Pellias liberates the captives._]
But when that sorrowful lady perceived Sir Brandemere, she ran unto him
with great voice of rejoicing and embraced him and wept over him. And he
embraced her and wept and altogether forgot his hurt in the joy of
beholding her again.
And in the several apartments of that part of the castle, there were in
all eighteen knights and esquires, and three ladies besides Sir
Brandemere. Moreover, amongst those knights were two from King Arthur’s
Court: to wit, Sir Brandiles and Sir Mador de la Porte. Whereupon these
beholding that it was Sir Pellias who had liberated them, came to him
and embraced him with great joy and kissed him upon either cheek.
And all those who were liberated made great rejoicing and gave Sir
Pellias such praise and acclaim that he was greatly contented therewith.
Then when Sir Pellias beheld all those captives who were in the dungeon
he was very wroth with Sir Adresack, wherefore he turned unto him and
said, “Begone, Sir Knight, for to do that penance which I imposed upon
thee to perform, for I am very greatly displeased with thee, and fear me
lest I should repent me of my mercy to thee.”
Thereupon Sir Adresack turned him away and he immediately departed from
that place. And he called to him his esquire and he took him and rode
away to Camelot for to do that penance which he had promised Sir Pellias
to do.
Then, after he was gone, Sir Pellias and those captives whom he had
liberated, went through the divers parts of the castle. And there they
found thirteen chests of gold and silver money and four caskets of
jewels--very fine and of great brilliancy--all of which treasure had
been paid in ransom by those captives who had aforetime been violently
held prisoners at that place.
And Sir Pellias ordained that all those chests and caskets should be
opened, and when those who were there looked therein, the hearts of all
were wonderfully exalted with joy at the sight of that great treasure.
[Sidenote: _Sir Pellias divideth the treasures of Sir Adresack among the
captives._]
Then Sir Pellias commanded that all that treasure of gold and silver
should be divided into nineteen equal parts, and when it had been so
divided, he said, “Now let each of you who have been held captive in
this place, take for his own one part of that treasure as a recompense
for those sorrows which he hath endured.” Moreover, to each of the
ladies who had been held as captives in that place, he gave a casket of
jewels, saying unto her, “Take thou this casket of jewels as a
recompense for that sorrow which thou hast suffered. And unto Sir
Brandemere’s lady he gave a casket of the jewels for that which she had
endured.
But then those who were there beheld that Sir Pellias reserved no part
of that great treasure for himself, they all cried out upon him: “Sir
Knight! Sir Knight! How is this? Behold, thou hast set aside no part of
this treasure for thyself.”
Then Sir Pellias made answer: “You are right, I have not so. For it
needs not that I take any of this gold and silver, or any of these
jewels, for myself. For, behold! ye have suffered much at the hands of
Sir Adresack, wherefore ye should receive recompense therefore, but I
have suffered naught at his hands, wherefore I need no such recompense.”
Then were they all astonished at his generosity and gave him great
praise for his largeness of heart. And all those knights vowed unto him
fidelity unto death.
[Sidenote: _They abide at the castle of Sir Brandemere._]
Then, when all these things were accomplished, Sir Brandemere implored
all who were there that they would come with him unto his castle, so
that they might refresh themselves with a season of mirth and good
faring. And they all said that they would go with him, and they did go.
And at the castle of Sir Brandemere there was great rejoicing with
feasting and jousting for three days.
And all who were there loved Sir Pellias with an astonishing love
because of that collar of emeralds and opals and of gold. Yet no one
knew of the virtue of that collar, nor did Sir Pellias know of it.
So Sir Pellias abided at that place for three days. And when the fourth
day was come he arose betimes in the morning and bade saddle his horse,
and the palfrey of the damsel Parcenet, and the horses of their pages.
Then when all those who were there saw that he was minded to depart,
they besought him not to go, but Sir Pellias said, “Stay me not, for I
must go.”
Then came to him those two knights of Arthur’s Court, Sir Brandiles and
Sir Mador de la Porte, and they besought him that he would let them go
with him upon that adventure. And at first Sir Pellias forbade them but
they besought him the more, so that at last he was fain to say, “Ye
shall go with me.”
So he departed from that place with his company, and all those who
remained gave great sorrow that he had gone away.
[Illustration]
[Illustration: Parcenet covers Sir Pellias with a cloak.]
[Illustration] Chapter Third.
_How Sir Pellias Did Battle With Sir Engamore, Otherwise the Knight of
the Green Sleeves, and of What Befell the Lady Ettard._
Now, Sir Pellias and his party and the damsel Parcenet and her party
travelled onward until after awhile in the afternoon they came unto the
utmost boundaries of the forest, where the woodlands ceased altogether
and many fields and meadows, with farms and crofts and plantations of
trees all a-bloom with tender leaves and fragrant blossoms, lay spread
out beneath the sky.
And Sir Pellias said, “This is indeed a very beautiful land into which
we have come.” Whereat the damsel Parcenet was right well pleased, for
she said, “Sir, I am very glad that that which thou seest belikes thee;
for all this region belongeth unto the Lady Ettard, and it is my home.
Moreover, from the top of yonder hill one mayst behold the castle of
Grantmesnle which lieth in the valley beneath.” Then Sir Pellias said,
“Let us make haste! For I am wonderfully desirous of beholding that
place.”
[Sidenote: _They reach Grantmesnle._]
So they set spurs to their horses and rode up that hill at a hand
gallop. And when they had reached the top thereof, lo! beneath them lay
the Castle of Grantmesnle in such a wise that it was as though upon the
palm of a hand. And Sir Pellias beheld that it was an exceedingly fair
castle, built altogether without of a red stone, and containing many
buildings of red brick within the wall. And behind the walls there lay a
little town, and from where they stood they could behold the streets
thereof, and the people coming and going upon their businesses. So Sir
Pellias, beholding the excellence of that castle, said, “Certes, maiden,
yonder is a very fair estate.”
“Yea,” said Parcenet; “we who dwell there do hold it to be a very
excellent estate.”
Then Sir Pellias said to Parcenet: “Maiden, yonder glade of young trees
nigh unto the castle appeareth to be a very cheerful spot. Wherefore at
that place I and my companions in arms will take up our inn. There,
likewise, we will cause to be set up three pavilions for to shelter us
by day and by night. Meantime, I beseech of thee, that thou wilt go unto
the lady, thy mistress, and say unto her that a knight hath come unto
this place, who, albeit he knoweth her not, holdeth that the Lady
Guinevere of Camelot is the fairest lady in all of the world. And I
beseech thee to tell the lady that I am here to maintain that saying
against all comers at the peril of my body. Wherefore, if the lady have
any champion for to undertake battle in her behalf, him will I meet in
yonder field to-morrow at mid-day a little before I eat my mid-day meal.
For at that time I do propose for to enter into yonder field, and to
make parade therein until my friends bid me for to come in to my dinner;
and I shall take my stand in that place in honor of the Lady Guinevere
of Camelot.”
“Sir Pellias,” said the damsel, “I will even do as thou desirest of me.
And, though I may not wish that thou mayst be the victor in that
encounter, yet am I soothly sorry for to depart from thee. For thou art
both a very valiant and a very gentle knight, and I find that I have a
great friendship for thee.”
Then Sir Pellias laughed, and he said, “Parcenet, thou art minded to
give me praise that is far beyond my deserving.” And Parcenet said,
“Sir, not so, for thou dost deserve all that I may say to thy credit.”
Thereupon they twain took leave of one another with very good will and
much kindness of intention, and the maiden and the three pages went the
one way, and Sir Pellias and his two companions and the several
attendants they had brought with them went into the glade of young trees
as Sir Pellias had ordained.
[Sidenote: _Sir Pellias and his knights-companion take up their inn in a
glade of trees._]
And there they set up three pavilions in the shade of the trees; the one
pavilion of fair white cloth, the second of green cloth, and the third
of scarlet cloth. And over each pavilion they had set a banner
emblazoned with the device of that knight unto whom the pavilion
appertained: above the white pavilion was the device of Sir Pellias: to
wit, three swans displayed upon a field argent; above the red pavilion,
which was the pavilion of Sir Brandiles, was a red banner emblazoned
with his device: to-wit, a mailed hand holding in its grasp a hammer;
above the green pavilion, which was that of Sir Mador de la Porte, was a
green banner bearing his device, which was that of a carrion crow
holding in one hand a white lily flower and in the other a sword.
[Sidenote: _Sir Pellias issues challenge to Sir Engamore._]
So when the next day had come, and when mid-day was nigh at hand, Sir
Pellias went forth into that field before the castle as he had promised
to do, and he was clad all from head to foot in the red armor which he had
taken from the body of Sir Adresack, so that in that armor he presented
a very terrible appearance. So he rode up and down before the castle
walls for a considerable while crying in a loud voice, “What ho! What
ho! Here stands a knight of King Arthur’s Court and of his Round Table
who doth affirm, and is ready to maintain the same with his body, that
the Lady Guinevere, King Arthur’s Queen of Camelot, is the most
beautiful lady in all of the world, barring none whomsoever. Wherefore,
if any knight maintaineth otherwise, let him straightway come forth for
to defend his opinion with his body.”
Now after Sir Pellias had thus appeared in that meadow there fell a
great commotion within the castle, and many people came upon the walls
thereof and gazed down upon Sir Pellias where he paraded that field. And
after a time had passed, the drawbridge of the castle was let fall, and
there issued forth a knight, very huge of frame and exceedingly haughty
of demeanor. This knight was clad altogether from head to foot in green
armor, and upon either arm he wore a green sleeve, whence he was
sometimes entitled the Knight of the Green Sleeves.
So that Green Knight rode forward toward Sir Pellias, and Sir Pellias
rode forward unto the Green Knight, and when they had come together they
gave salute with a great deal of civility and knightly courtesy. Then
the Green Knight said unto Sir Pellias, “Sir Knight, wilt thou allow
unto me the great favor for to know thy name?”
Whereunto Sir Pellias made reply, “That will I so. I am Sir Pellias, a
knight of King Arthur’s Court and of his Round Table.”
Then the Green Knight made reply, “Ha, Sir Pellias, it is a great honor
for me to have to do with so famous a knight, for who is there in Courts
of Chivalry who hath not heard of thee? Now, if I have the good fortune
for to overthrow thee, then will all thy honor become my honor. Now, in
return for thy courtesy for making proclamation of thy name, I give unto
thee my name and title, which is Sir Engamore of Malverat, further known
as the Knight of the Green Sleeves. And I may furthermore tell thee that
I am the champion unto the Lady Ettard of Grantmesnle, and that I have
defended her credit unto peerless beauty for eleven months, and that
against all comers, wherefore if I do successfully defend it for one
month longer, then do I become lord of her hand and of all this fair
estate. So I am prepared to do the uttermost in my power in her honor.”
Then Sir Pellias said, “Sir Knight, I give thee gramercy for thy words
of greeting, and I too will do my uttermost in this encounter.”
Thereupon each knight saluted each other with his lance, and each rode
to his appointed station.
[Sidenote: _Sir Pellias overthrows Sir Engamore._]
Now a great concourse of people had come down to the lower walls of the
castle and of the town for to behold the contest of arms that was
toward, wherefore it would be hard to imagine a more worthy occasion
where knights might meet in a glorious contest of friendly jousting,
wherefore each knight prepared himself in all ways, and dressed him his
spear and his lance with great care and circumspection. So when all had
been prepared for that encounter, an herald, who had come forth from the
castle into the field, give the signal for assault. Thereupon in an
instant, each knight drave spurs into his horse and rushed the one
against the other, with such terrible speed that the ground shook and
trembled beneath the beating of their horses’ feet. So they met exactly
in the centre of the field of battle, the one knight smiting the other
in the midst of his defences with a violence that was very terrible to
behold. And the spear of Sir Engamore burst into as many as thirty
pieces, but the spear of Sir Pellias held so that the Green Knight was
hurtled so violently from out of his saddle that he smote the earth
above a spear’s length behind the crupper of his horse.
Now when those who had stood upon the walls beheld how entirely the
Green Knight was overthrown in the encounter, they lifted up their
voices in great outcry; for there was no other such knight as Sir
Engamore in all those parts. And more especially did the Lady Ettard
make great outcry; for Sir Engamore was very much beloved by her;
wherefore, seeing him so violently flung down upon the ground, she
deemed that perhaps he had been slain.
Then three esquires ran to Sir Engamore and lifted him up and unlaced
his helm for to give him air. And they beheld that he was not slain, but
only in a deep swoon. So by and by he opened his eyes, and at that Sir
Pellias was right glad, for it would have grieved him had he slain that
knight. Now when Sir Engamore came back unto his senses once more, he
demanded with great vehemence that he might continue that contest with
Sir Pellias afoot and with swords. But Sir Pellias would not have it so.
“Nay, Sir Engamore,” quoth he, “I will not fight thee so serious a
quarrel as that, for I have no such despite against thee.” And at that
denial Sir Engamore fell a weeping from pure vexation and shame of his
entire overthrow.
Then came Sir Brandiles and Sir Mador de la Porte and gave Sir Pellias
great acclaim for the excellent manner in which he had borne himself in
the encounter, and at the same time they offered consolation unto Sir
Engamore and comforted him for the misfortune that had befallen him.
But Sir Engamore would take but little comfort in their words.
Now whiles they thus stood all together, there issued out from the
castle the Lady Ettard and an exceedingly gay and comely Court of
esquires and ladies, and these came across the meadow toward where Sir
Pellias and the others stood.
Then when Sir Pellias beheld that lady approach, he drew his
misericordia and cut the thongs of his helmet, and took the helmet off
of his head, and thus he went forward, bareheaded, for to meet her.
[Sidenote: _Sir Pellias greets the Lady Ettard in courteous wise._]
But when he had come nigh to her he beheld that she was many times more
beautiful than that image of her painted upon the ivory panel which he
had aforetime beheld, wherefore his heart went forth unto her with a
very great strength of liking. So therewith he kneeled down upon the
grass and set his hands together palm to palm, before her, and he said:
“Lady, I do very greatly crave thy forgiveness that I should thus have
done battle against thy credit. For, excepting that I did that endeavor
for my Queen, I would rather, in another case, have been thy champion
than that of any lady whom I have ever beheld.”
Now at that time Sir Pellias wore about his neck the collar of emeralds
and opal stones and gold which the Lady of the Lake had given to him.
Wherefore, when the Lady Ettard looked upon him, that necklace drew her
heart unto him with very great enchantment. Wherefore she smiled upon
Sir Pellias very cheerfully and gave him her hand and caused him to
arise from that place where he kneeled. And she said to him, “Sir
Knight, thou art a very famous warrior; for I suppose there is not
anybody who knoweth aught of chivalry but hath heard of the fame of Sir
Pellias, the Gentle Knight. Wherefore, though my champion Sir Engamore
of Malverat hath heretofore overthrown all comers, yet he need not feel
very much ashamed to have been overthrown by so terribly strong a
knight.”
[Sidenote: _Sir Pellias and his knights-companion go to the castle of
Grantmesnle._]
Then Sir Pellias was very glad of the kind words which the Lady Ettard
spake unto him, and therewith he made her known unto Sir Brandiles and
Sir Mador de la Porte. Unto these knights also, the Lady Ettard spake
very graciously, being moved thereto by the extraordinary regard she
felt toward Sir Pellias. So she besought those knights that they would
come into the castle and refresh themselves, with good cheer, and with
that, the knights said that they would presently do so. Wherefore they
returned each knight unto his pavilion, and there each bedight himself
with fine raiment and with ornaments of gold and silver in such a
fashion that he was noble company for any Court. Then those three
knights betook themselves unto the castle of Grantmesnle, and when they
had come thither everybody was astonished at the nobility of their
aspect.
But Sir Engamore, who had by now recovered from his fall, was greatly
cast down, for he said unto himself, “Who am I in the presence of these
noble lords?” So he stood aside and was very downcast of heart and
oppressed in his spirits.
Then the Lady Ettard set a very fine feast and Sir Pellias and Sir
Brandiles and Sir Mador de la Porte were exceedingly glad thereof. And
upon her right hand she placed Sir Pellias, and upon her left hand she
placed Sir Engamore. And Sir Engamore was still more cast down, for,
until now, he had always sat upon the right hand of the Lady Ettard.
Now because Sir Pellias wore that wonderful collar which the Lady of the
Lake had given unto him, the Lady Ettard could not keep her regard from
him. So after they had refreshed themselves and had gone forth into the
castle pleasaunce for to walk in the warm sunshine, the lady would have
Sir Pellias continually beside her. And when it came time for those
foreign knights to quit the castle, she besought Sir Pellias that he
would stay a while longer. Now Sir Pellias was very glad to do that, for
he was pleased beyond measure with the graciousness and the beauty of
the Lady Ettard.
So by and by Sir Brandiles and Sir Mador de la Porte went back unto
their pavilions, and Sir Pellias remained in the castle of Grantmesnle
for a while longer.
[Sidenote: _Sir Pellias and the Lady Ettard feast together._]
Now that night the Lady Ettard let to be made a supper for herself and
Sir Pellias, and at that supper she and Sir Pellias alone sat at the
table, and the damsel Parcenet waited in attendance upon the lady.
Whiles they ate, certain young pages and esquires played very sweetly
upon harps, and certain maidens who were attendant upon the Court of the
lady sang so sweetly that it expanded the heart of the listener to hear
them. And Sir Pellias was so enchanted with the sweetness of the music,
and with the beauty of the Lady Ettard, that he wist not whether he were
indeed upon the earth or in Paradise, wherefore, because of his great
pleasure, he said unto the Lady Ettard, “Lady, I would that I might do
somewhat for thee to show unto thee how high is the regard and the honor
in which I hold thee.”
Now as Sir Pellias sat beside her, the Lady Ettard had continually held
in observation that wonderful collar of gold and of emerald and of opal
stones which hung about his neck; and she coveted that collar
exceedingly. Wherefore, she now said unto Sir Pellias, “Sir Knight, thou
mayst indeed do me great favor if thou hast a mind for to do so.” “What
favor may I do thee, Lady?” said Sir Pellias. “Sir,” said the Lady
Ettard, “thou mayst give unto me that collar which hangeth about thy
neck.”
At this the countenance of Sir Pellias fell, and he said, “Lady, I may
not do that; for that collar came unto me in such an extraordinary
fashion that I may not part it from me.”
Then the Lady Ettard said, “Why mayst thou not part it from thee, Sir
Pellias?”
Thereupon Sir Pellias told her all of that extraordinary adventure with
the Lady of the Lake, and of how that fairy lady had given the collar
unto him.
At this the Lady Ettard was greatly astonished, and she said, “Sir
Pellias, that is a very wonderful story. Ne’theless, though thou mayst
not give that collar unto me, yet thou mayst let me wear it for a little
while. For indeed I am charmed by the beauty of that collar beyond all
manner of liking, wherefore I do beseech thee for to let me wear it for
a little.”
[Sidenote: _Sir Pellias lets the Lady Ettard wear the collar._]
Then Sir Pellias could refuse her no longer, so he said, “Lady, thou
shalt have it to wear for a while.” Thereupon he took the collar from
off of his neck, and he hung it about the neck of the Lady Ettard.
Then, after a little time the virtue of that jewel departed from Sir
Pellias and entered into the Lady Ettard, and the Lady Ettard looked
upon Sir Pellias with altogether different eyes than those with which
she had before regarded him. Wherefore she said unto herself: “Hah! what
ailed me that I should have been so enchanted with that knight to the
discredit of my champion who hath served me so faithfully? Hath not this
knight done me grievous discredit? Hath he not come hitherward for no
other reason than for that purpose? Hath he not overthrown mine own true
knight in scorn of me? What then hath ailed me that I should have given
him such regard as I have bestowed upon him?” But though she thought all
this, yet she made no sign thereof unto Sir Pellias, but appeared to
laugh and talk very cheerfully. Nevertheless, she immediately began to
cast about in her mind for some means whereby she might be revenged upon
Sir Pellias; for she said unto herself, “Lo! is he not mine enemy and is
not mine enemy now in my power? Wherefore should I not take full measure
of revenge upon him for all that which he hath done unto us of
Grantmesnle?”
[Sidenote: _The Lady Ettard layeth plans against Sir Pellias._]
So by and by she made an excuse and arose and left Sir Pellias. And she
took Parcenet aside, and she said unto the damsel Parcenet, “Go and
fetch me hither presently a powerful sleeping-draught.” Then Parcenet
said, “Lady, what would you do?” And the Lady Ettard said, “No matter.”
And Parcenet said, “Would you give unto that noble knight a
sleeping-draught?” And the lady said, “I would.” Then Parcenet said,
“Lady, that would surely be an ill thing to do unto one who sitteth in
peace at your table and eateth of your salt.” Whereunto the Lady Ettard
said, “Take thou no care as to that, girl, but go thou straightway and
do as I bid thee.”
Then Parcenet saw that it was not wise for her to disobey the lady.
Wherefore she went straightway and did as she was bidden. So she brought
the sleeping-draught to the lady in a chalice of pure wine, and the Lady
Ettard took the chalice and said to Sir Pellias, “Take thou this chalice
of wine, Sir Knight, and drink it unto me according to the measure of
that good will thou hast unto me.” Now Parcenet stood behind her lady’s
chair, and when Sir Pellias took the chalice she frowned and shook her
head at him. But Sir Pellias saw it not, for he was intoxicated with the
beauty of the Lady Ettard, and with the enchantment of the collar of
emeralds and opal stones and gold which she now wore. Wherefore he said
unto her, “Lady, if there were poison in that chalice, yet would I drink
of the wine that is in it at thy command.”
At that the Lady Ettard fell a-laughing beyond measure, and she said,
“Sir Knight, there is no poison in that cup.”
So Sir Pellias took the chalice and drank the wine, and he said, “Lady,
how is this? The wine is bitter.” To which the Lady Ettard made reply,
“Sir, that cannot be.”
[Sidenote: _Sir Pellias sleepeth._]
Then in a little while Sir Pellias his head waxed exceedingly heavy as
if it were of lead, wherefore he bowed his head upon the table where he
sat. That while the Lady Ettard remained watching him very strangely,
and by and by she said, “Sir Knight, dost thou sleep?” To the which Sir
Pellias replied not, for the fumes of the sleeping-draught had ascended
into his brains and he slept.
Then the Lady Ettard arose laughing, and she smote her hands together
and summoned her attendants. And she said to them, “Take this knight
away, and convey him into an inner apartment, and when ye have brought
him thither, strip him of his gay clothes and of his ornaments so that
only his undergarments shall remain upon him. And when ye have done
that, lay him upon a pallet and convey him out of the castle and into
that meadow beneath the walls where he overthrew Sir Engamore, so that
when the morning shall arise he shall become a mock and a jest unto all
who shall behold him. Thus shall we humiliate him in that same field
wherein he overthrew Sir Engamore, and his humiliation shall be greater
than the humiliation of Sir Engamore hath been.”
Now when the damsel Parcenet heard this she was greatly afflicted, so
that she withdrew herself apart and wept for Sir Pellias. But the others
took Sir Pellias and did unto him as the Lady Ettard had commanded.
Now when the next morning had come, Sir Pellias awoke with the sun
shining into his face. And he wist not at all where he was, for his
brains were befogged by the sleeping-draught which he had taken. So he
said unto himself, “Am I dreaming, or am I awake? for certes, the last
that I remember was that I sat at supper with the Lady Ettard, yet here
I am now in an open field with the sun shining upon me.”
So he raised himself upon his elbow, and behold! he lay beneath the
castle walls nigh to the postern gate. And above him, upon the top of
the wall, was a great concourse of people, who, when they beheld that he
was awake, laughed at him and mocked at him. And the Lady Ettard also
gazed down at him from a window and he saw that she laughed at him and
made herself merry. And lo! he beheld that he lay there clad only in his
linen undervestment, and that he was in his bare feet as though he were
prepared to sleep at night. So he sat upon the cot, saying unto himself,
“Certainly this must be some shameful dream that oppresses me.” Nor was
he at all able to recover from his bewilderment.
[Sidenote: _The damsel Parcenet bringeth succor to Sir Pellias._]
Now, as he sat thus, the postern gate was opened of a sudden, and the
damsel Parcenet came out thence. And her face was all be-wet with tears,
and she bare in her hand a flame-colored mantle. Straightway she ran to
Sir Pellias, and said, “Thou good and gentle knight, take thou this and
wrap thyself in it.”
Upon this Sir Pellias wist that this was no dream, but a truth of great
shame; wherefore he was possessed with an extreme agony of shame, so
that he fell to trembling, whilst his teeth chattered as though with an
ague. Then he said to Parcenet, “Maiden, I thank thee.” And he could
find no more words to say. So he took the mantle and wrapped himself in
it.
Now when the people upon the walls beheld what Parcenet had done, they
hooted her and reviled her with many words of ill-regard. So the maiden
ran back again into the castle, but Sir Pellias arose and went his way
toward his pavilion wrapped in that mantle. And as he went he staggered
and tottered like a drunken man, for a great burden of shame lay upon
him almost more than he could carry.
[Sidenote: _Sir Pellias taketh great grief because of his shame._]
So when Sir Pellias had reached his pavilion, he entered it and threw
himself on his face upon his couch and lay there without saying
anything. And by and by Sir Brandiles and Mador de la Porte heard of
that plight into which Sir Pellias had fallen, and thereupon they
hastened to where he lay and made much sorrow over him. Likewise, they
were exceedingly wroth at the shame that had been put upon him;
wherefore they said, “We will get us aid from Camelot, and we will burst
open yonder castle and we will fetch the Lady Ettard hither to crave thy
pardon for this affront. This we will do even if we have to drag her
hither by the hair of her head.”
But Sir Pellias lifted not his head, only he groaned and he said, “Let
be, Messires; for under no circumstance shall ye do that thing, she
being a woman. As it is, I would defend her honor even though I died in
that defence. For I know not whether I am bewitched or what it is that
ails me, but I love her with a very great passion and I cannot tear my
heart away from her.”
At this Sir Brandiles and Sir Mador de la Porte were greatly astonished,
wherefore they said the one to the other, “Certes, that lady hath laid
some powerful spell upon him.”
Then after a while Sir Pellias bade them go away and leave him, and they
did so, though not with any very good will.
So Sir Pellias lay there for all that day until the afternoon had come.
Then he aroused himself and bade his esquire for to bring him his armor.
Now when Sir Brandiles and Sir Mador de la Porte heard news of this they
went to where he was and said, “Sir, what have ye a mind to do?” To this
Sir Pellias said, “I am going to try to win me unto the Lady Ettard’s
presence.” Then they said, “What madness is this?” “I know not,” said
Sir Pellias, “but, meseems, that if I do not behold the Lady Ettard and
talk with her I shall surely die of longing to see her.” And they say,
“Certes, this is madness.” Whereunto he replied, “I know not whether it
is madness or whether I am caught in some enchantment.”
So the esquire fetched unto Sir Pellias his armor as he had commanded,
and he clad Sir Pellias in it so that he was altogether armed from head
to foot. Thereupon straightway Sir Pellias mounted his horse and rode
out toward the castle of Grantmesnle.
Now when the Lady Ettard beheld Sir Pellias again parading the meadow
below the castle, she called unto her six of her best knights, and she
said unto them, “Behold, Messires, yonder is that knight who brought so
much shame upon us yesterday. Now I bid ye for to go forth against him
and to punish him as he deserveth.”
So those six knights went and armed themselves, and when they had done
so they straightway rode forth against Sir Pellias.
[Sidenote: _Sir Pellias overcometh six knights._]
Now, when Sir Pellias beheld these approach, his heart overflowed with
fury and he shouted in a great voice and drave forward against them. And
for a while they withstood him, but he was not to be withstood, but
fought with surpassing fury, wherefore they presently brake from before
him and fled. So he pursued them with great fury about that field and
smote four of them down from their horses. Then, when there were but two
of those knights remaining, Sir Pellias of a sudden ceased to fight, and
he cried out unto those two knights, “Messires, I surrender myself unto
ye.”
[Sidenote: _Sir Pellias yields himself prisoner._]
Now at that those two knights were greatly astonished, for they were
entirely filled with the fear of his strength, and wist not why he
should yield to them. Nevertheless they came and laid hands upon him and
took him toward the castle. Upon this Sir Pellias said unto himself,
“Now they will bring me unto the Lady Ettard, and I shall have speech
with her.” For it was for this that he had suffered himself to be taken
by those two knights.
But it was not to be as Sir Pellias willed it. For when they had brought
him close under the castle, the Lady Ettard called unto them from a
window in the wall. And she said, “What do you with that knight?” They
say, “We bring him to you, Lady.” Upon this she cried out very
vehemently, “Bring him not to me, but take him and tie his hands behind
his back and tie his feet beneath his horse’s belly, and send him back
unto his companions.”
Then Sir Pellias lifted up his eyes unto that window and he cried out in
a great passion of despair, “Lady, it was unto thee I surrendered, and
not unto these unworthy knights.”
But the Lady Ettard cried out all the more vehemently, “Drive him hence,
for I do hate the sight of him.”
[Sidenote: _The Lady Ettard puts shame upon Sir Pellias._]
So those two knights did as the Lady Ettard said; they took Sir Pellias
and bound him hand and foot upon his horse. And when they had done so
they allowed his horse for to bear him back again unto his companions in
that wise.
Now when Sir Brandiles and Sir Mador de la Porte beheld how Sir Pellias
came unto them with his hands bound behind his back and his feet tied
beneath his horse’s belly, they were altogether filled with grief and
despair. So they loosed those cords from about his hands and feet, and
they cried out upon Sir Pellias, “Sir Knight, Sir Knight, art thou not
ashamed to permit such infamy as this?” And Sir Pellias shook and
trembled as though with an ague, and he cried out in great despair, “I
care not what happens unto me!” They said, “Not unto thyself, Sir
Knight; but what shame dost thou bring upon King Arthur and his Round
Table!” Upon this Sir Pellias cried aloud, with a great and terrible
voice, “I care not for them, either.”
All of this befell because of the powerful enchantment of the collar of
emeralds and opal stones and of gold which Sir Pellias had given unto
the Lady Ettard, and which she continually wore. For it was beyond the
power of any man to withstand the enchantment of that collar. So it was
that Sir Pellias was bewitched and brought to that great pass of shame.
[Illustration]
[Illustration: The Lady of the Lake sits by the Fountain in Arroy.]
[Illustration] Chapter Fourth.
_How Queen Guinevere Quarrelled With Sir Gawaine, and How Sir Gawaine
Left the Court of King Arthur For a While._
Now, in the same measure that Queen Guinevere felt high regard for Sir
Pellias, in that same degree she felt misliking for Sir Gawaine. For,
though Sir Gawaine was said of many to have a silver tongue, and whiles
he could upon occasion talk in such a manner as to beguile others unto
his will, yet he was of a proud temper and very stern and haughty.
Wherefore he would not always brook that the Lady Guinevere should
command him unto her will as she did other knights of that Court.
Moreover, she could not ever forget how Sir Gawaine did deny her that
time at Cameliard when she besought him and his companions for aid, in
her time of trouble, nor how discourteous his speech had been to her
upon that occasion. So there was no great liking between these two proud
souls, for Queen Guinevere held to her way and Sir Gawaine held to his
way under all circumstances.
[Sidenote: _Sir Gawaine and others sit beneath the Queen’s window._]
Now it happened upon an occasion that Sir Gawaine and Sir Griflet and
Sir Constantine of Cornwall sat talking with five ladies of the Queen’s
Court in a pleached garden that lay beneath the tower of the Lady
Guinevere, and they made very pleasant discourse together. For some
whiles they would talk and make them merry with jests and contes, and
other whiles one or another would take a lute that they had with them
and would play upon it and would sing.
Now while these lords and ladies sat thus enjoying pleasant discourse
and singing in that manner, Queen Guinevere sat at a window that
overlooked the garden, and which was not very high from the ground,
wherefore she could overhear all that they said. But these lords and
ladies were altogether unaware that the Queen could overhear them, so
that they talked and laughed very freely, and the Queen greatly enjoyed
their discourse and the music that they made.
That day was extraordinarily balmy, and it being well toward the sloping
of the afternoon, those lords and ladies were clad in very gay attire.
And of all who were there Sir Gawaine was the most gayly clad, for he
was dressed in sky-blue silk embroidered with threads of silver. And Sir
Gawaine was playing upon the lute and singing a ballad in an exceedingly
pleasing voice so that Queen Guinevere, as she sat at the window beside
the open casement, was very well content for to listen to him.
[Sidenote: _Sir Gawaine striketh the Queen’s hound._]
Now there was a certain greyhound of which Queen Guinevere was
wonderfully fond; so much so that she had adorned its neck with a collar
of gold inset with carbuncles. At that moment the hound came running
into that garden and his feet were wet and soiled with earth. So,
hearing Sir Gawaine singing and playing upon the lute, that hound ran
unto him and leaped upon him. At this Sir Gawaine was very wroth,
wherefore he clinched his hand and smote the hound upon the head with
the knuckles thereof, so that the hound lifted up his voice with great
outcry.
But when Queen Guinevere beheld that blow she was greatly offended,
wherefore she called out from her window, “Why dost thou smite my dog,
Messire?” And those lords and ladies who were below in the garden were
very much surprised and were greatly abashed to find that the Queen was
so nigh unto them as to overhear all that they had said and to behold
all that they did.
But Sir Gawaine spake up very boldly, saying, “Thy dog affronted me,
Lady, and whosoever affronteth me, him I strike.”
Then Queen Guinevere grew very angry with Sir Gawaine, wherefore she
said, “Thy speech is over-bold, Messire,” and Sir Gawaine said, “Not
over-bold, Lady; but only bold enough for to maintain my rights.”
[Sidenote: _Of the quarrel of the Queen and Sir Gawaine._]
At this speech the Lady Guinevere’s face flamed like fire and her eyes
shone very bright and she said, “I am sure that thou dost forget unto
whom thou speakest, Sir Knight,” at the which Sir Gawaine smiled very
bitterly and said, “And thou, Lady, dost not remember that I am the son
of a king so powerful that he needs no help from any other king for to
maintain his rights.”
At these words all those who were there fell as silent as though they
were turned into stones, for that speech was exceedingly bold and
haughty. Wherefore all looked upon the ground, for they durst not look
either upon Queen Guinevere nor upon Sir Gawaine. And the Lady
Guinevere, also, was silent for a long time, endeavoring to recover
herself from that speech, and when she spake, it was as though she was
half smothered by her anger. And she said, “Sir Knight, thou art proud
and arrogant beyond measure, for I did never hear of anyone who dared
to give reply unto his Queen as thou hast spoken unto me. But this is my
Court, and I may command in it as I choose; wherefore I do now bid thee
for to begone and to show thy face no more, either here nor in Hall nor
any of the places where I hold my Court. For thou art an offence unto
me, wherefore in none of these places shalt thou have leave to show thy
face until thou dost ask my pardon for the affront which thou hast put
upon me.” Then Sir Gawaine arose and bowed very low to the Queen
Guinevere and he said, “Lady, I go. Nor will I return thitherward until
thou art willing for to tell me that thou art sorry for the discourteous
way in which thou hast entreated me now and at other times before my
peers.”
So saying, Sir Gawaine took his leave from that place, nor did he turn
his head to look behind him. And Queen Guinevere went into her chamber
and wept in secret for anger and for shame. For indeed she was greatly
grieved at what had befallen; yet was she so proud that she would in no
wise have recalled the words that she had spoken, even had she been able
for to have done so.