Now when the news of that quarrel had gone about the castle it came unto

the ears of Sir Ewaine, wherefore Sir Ewaine went straightway unto Sir

Gawaine, and asked him what was ado, and Sir Gawaine, who was like one

distraught and in great despair, told him everything. Then Sir Ewaine

said: “Thou wert certainly wrong for to speak unto the Queen as thou

didst. Nevertheless, if thou art banished from this Court, I will go

with thee, for thou art my cousin-german and my companion, and my heart

cleaveth unto thee.” So Sir Ewaine went unto King Arthur, and he said,

“Lord, my cousin, Sir Gawaine, hath been banished from this Court by the

Queen. And though I may not say that he hath not deserved that

punishment, yet I would fain crave thy leave for to go along with him.”

At this King Arthur was very grieved, but he maintained a steadfast

countenance, and said, “Messire, I will not stay thee from going where

it pleases thee. As for thy kinsman, I daresay he gave the Queen such

great offence that she could not do otherwise than as she did.”

[Sidenote: _Sir Gawaine and Sir Ewaine quit the Court._]

So both Sir Ewaine and Sir Gawaine went unto their inns and commanded

their esquires for to arm them. Then they, with their esquires, went

forth from Camelot, betaking their way toward the forest lands.

There those two knights and their esquires travelled for all that day

until the gray of the eventide, what time the birds were singing their

last songs ere closing their eyes for the night. So, finding the evening

drawing on apace, those knights were afraid that they would not be able

to find kindly lodging ere the night should descend upon them, and they

talked together a great deal concerning that thing. But as they came to

the top of a certain hill, they beheld below them a valley, very fair

and well tilled, with many cottages and farm-crofts. And in the midst of

that valley was a goodly abbey very fair to look upon; wherefore Sir

Gawaine said unto Sir Ewaine: “If yonder abbey is an abbey of monks, I

believe we shall find excellent lodging there for to-night.”

[Sidenote: _They come to an abbey of monks._]

So they rode down into that valley and to the abbey, and they found a

porter at the wicket of whom they learned that it was indeed an abbey of

monks. Wherefore they were very glad and made great rejoicing.

But when the abbot of that abbey learned who they were and of what

quality and high estate, he was exceedingly pleased for to welcome them,

wherefore he brought them into that part of the abbey where he himself

dwelt. There he bade them welcome and had set before them a good supper,

whereat they were very much rejoiced. Now the abbot was merry of soul,

and took great pleasure in discourse with strangers, so he diligently

inquired of those two knights concerning the reason why they were

errant. But they told him naught concerning that quarrel at Court, but

only that they were in search of adventure. Upon this the abbot said,

“Ha, Messires, if ye are in search of adventures, ye may find one not

very far from this place.”

[Sidenote: _The abbot telleth the knights of a good adventure._]

So Sir Gawaine said, “What adventure is that?” And the abbot replied, “I

will tell ye; if ye will travel to the eastward from this place, ye will

come, after a while, to a spot where ye shall find a very fair castle of

gray stone. In front of that castle ye will find a good level meadow,

and in the midst of the meadow a sycamore-tree, and upon the

sycamore-tree a shield to which certain ladies offer affront in a very

singular manner. If ye forbid those ladies to affront that shield you

will discover a very good adventure.”

Then Sir Gawaine said, “That is a very strange matter. Now, to-morrow

morning we will go to that place and will endeavor to discover of what

sort that adventure may be.” And the abbot said, “Do so,” and laughed in

great measure.

So when the next morning had come, Sir Gawaine and Sir Ewaine gave adieu

unto the abbot, and took their leave of that place, riding away unto the

eastward, as the abbot had advised. And after they had ridden in that

direction for two or three hours or more they beheld before them the

borders of a forest all green and shady with foliage, and very cheerful

in the warmth of the early summer day. And, lo! immediately at the edge

of the woodland there stood a fair, strong castle of gray stone, with

windows of glass shining very bright against the sky.

[Sidenote: _Sir Gawaine and Sir Ewaine behold the damsels assailing the

shield._]

Then Sir Gawaine and Sir Ewaine beheld that everything was as the abbot

had said; for in front of the castle was a smooth, level meadow with a

sycamore-tree in the midst thereof. And as they drew near they perceived

that a sable shield hung in the branches of the tree, and in a little

they could see that it bore the device of three white goshawks

displayed. But that which was very extraordinary was that in front of

that shield there stood seven young damsels, exceedingly fair of face,

and that these seven damsels continually offered a great deal of insult

to that shield. For some of those damsels smote it ever and anon with

peeled rods of osier, and others flung lumps of clay upon it, so that

the shield was greatly defaced therewith. Now nigh to the shield was a

very noble-appearing knight clad all in black armor, and seated upon a

black war-horse, and it was very plain to be seen that the shield

belonged unto that knight, for otherwise he had no shield. Yet, though

that was very likely his shield, yet the knight offered no protest

either by word or by act to stay those damoiselles from offering affront

thereunto.

Then Sir Ewaine said unto Sir Gawaine, “Yonder is a very strange thing

that I behold; belike one of us is to encounter yonder knight.” And Sir

Gawaine said, “Maybe so.” Then Sir Ewaine said, “If it be so then I will

undertake the adventure.” “Not so,” said Sir Gawaine, “for I will

undertake it myself, I being the elder of us twain, and the better

seasoned in knighthood.” So Sir Ewaine said, “Very well. Let it be that

way, for thou art a very much more powerful knight than I, and it would

be a pity for one of us to fail in this undertaking.” Thereupon Sir

Gawaine said, “Let be, then, and I will undertake it.”

So he set spurs to his horse and he rode rapidly to where those damsels

offered affront in that way to the sable shield. And he set his spear in

rest and shouted in a loud voice, “Get ye away! Get ye away!” So when

those damsels beheld the armed knight riding at them in that wise they

fled away shrieking from before him.

Then the Sable Knight, who sat not a great distance away, rode forward

in a very stately manner unto Sir Gawaine, and he said, “Sir Knight, why

dost thou interfere with those ladies?” Whereunto Sir Gawaine replied,

“Because they offered insult unto what appeared to me to be a noble and

knightly shield.” At this the Sable Knight spake very haughtily, saying,

“Sir Knight, that shield belongeth unto me and I do assure thee that I

am very well able for to take care of it without the interference of

any other defender.” To which Sir Gawaine said, “It would appear not,

Sir Knight.”

Then the Sable Knight said, “Messire, an thou thinkest that thou art

better able to take care of that shield than I, I think that thou

wouldst do very well to make thy words good with thy body.” To this Sir

Gawaine said, “I will do my endeavor to show thee that I am better able

to guard that shield than thou art who ownest it.”

[Sidenote: _Sir Gawaine and the Black Knight engage in battle._]

Upon this the Sable Knight, without further ado, rode unto the

sycamore-tree, and took down from thence the shield that hung there. And

he dressed the shield upon his arm and took his spear in hand and made

him ready for defence. And Sir Gawaine likewise made him ready for

defence, and then each knight took such station upon the field as

appeared unto him to be fitting.

Now, when the people of that castle perceived that a combat of arms was

toward, they crowded in great numbers to the walls, so that there were

as many as twoscore ladies and esquires and folk of different degrees

looking down upon that field of battle from the walls.

So when those knights were altogether prepared, Sir Ewaine gave the

signal for encounter and each knight shouted aloud and drave spurs into

his charger and rushed forward to the assault with a noise like thunder

for loudness.

[Sidenote: _The Black Knight overthroweth Sir Gawaine._]

Now, Sir Gawaine thought that he should easily overcome his adversary in

this assault and that he would be able to cast him down from out of his

saddle without much pains, for there was hardly any knight in that realm

equal to Sir Gawaine for prowess. And, indeed, he had never yet been

unhorsed in combat excepting by King Arthur. So when those two rode to

the assault, the one against the other, Sir Gawaine thought of a surety

that his adversary would fall before him. But it was not so, for in that

attack Sir Gawaine’s spear was broken into many pieces, but the spear of

the Sable Knight held, so that Sir Gawaine was cast with great violence

out of the saddle, smiting the dust with a terrible noise of falling.

And so astonished was he at that fall that it appeared unto him not as

though he fell from his saddle, but as though the earth rose up and

smote him. Wherefore he lay for a while all stunned with the blow and

with the astonishment thereof.

But when he heard the shouts of the people upon the castle wall, he

immediately aroused himself from where he lay in the dust, and he was so

filled with rage and shame that he was like one altogether intoxicated.

Wherefore he drew his sword and rushed with great fury upon his enemy

with intent to hew him down by main strength. Then that other knight,

seeing him come thus at him, immediately voided his own saddle and drew

his sword and put himself in posture either for assault or for defence.

So they lashed together, tracing this way and that, and smiting with

such fury that the blows they gave were most terrible for to behold. But

when Sir Ewaine beheld how fierce was that assault, he set spurs unto

his horse and pushed him between the knights-contestant, crying out

aloud, “Sir Knights! Sir Knights! what is this? Here is no cause for

such desperate battle.” But Sir Gawaine cried out very furiously, “Let

be! let be! and stand aside! for this quarrel concerns thee not.” And

the Sable Knight said, “A-horse or afoot, I am ready to meet that knight

at any time.”

But Sir Ewaine said, “Not so; ye shall fight no more in this quarrel.

For shame, Gawaine! For shame to seek such desperate quarrel with a

knight that did but meet thee in a friendly fashion in a fair contest!”

Then Sir Gawaine was aware that Sir Ewaine was both just and right;

wherefore he put up his sword in silence, albeit he was like to weep for

vexation at the shame of his overthrow. And the Sable Knight put up his

sword also, and so peace was made betwixt those two.

Then the Sable Knight said, “I am glad that this quarrel is ended, for I

perceive, Messires, that ye are assuredly knights of great nobility and

gentleness of breeding; wherefore I would that we might henceforth be

friends and companions instead of enemies. Wherefore I do beseech ye for

to come with me a little ways from here where I have taken up my inn, so

that we may rest and refresh ourselves in my pavilion.”

Unto this Sir Ewaine said, “I give thee gramercy for thy courtesy, Sir

Knight; and we will go with thee with all the pleasure that it is

possible to feel.” And Sir Gawaine said, “I am content.” So these three

knights straightway left the field of battle.

[Sidenote: _Sir Gawaine and Sir Ewaine come to the pavilion of the Black

Knight._]

And when they had come to the edge of the forest Sir Gawaine and Sir

Ewaine perceived a very fine pavilion of green silk set up beneath the

tree. And about that pavilion were many attendants of divers sorts all

clad in colors of green and white. So Sir Gawaine perceived that the

knight who had overthrown him was certainly someone of very high estate,

wherefore he was very greatly comforted. Then the esquires of those

three knights came and removed the helmet, each esquire from his knight,

so that the knight might be made comfortable thereby. And when this was

done Sir Gawaine and Sir Ewaine perceived that the Sable Knight was very

comely of countenance, being ruddy of face and with hair like to copper

for redness. Then Sir Ewaine said unto the knight, “Sir Unknown Knight,

this knight, my companion, is Sir Gawaine, son of King Urien of Gore,

and I am Ewaine, the son of King Lot of Orkney. Now, I crave of thee

that wilt make thyself known unto us in like manner.”

“Ha,” said the other; “I am glad that ye are such very famous and royal

knights, for I am also of royal blood, being Sir Marhaus, the son of the

King of Ireland.”

Then Sir Gawaine was very glad to discover how exalted was the quality

of that knight who overthrew him and he said unto Sir Marhaus, “Messire,

I make my vow, that thou art one of the most terrible knights in the

world. For thou hast done unto me this day what only one knight in all

the world hath ever done, and that is King Arthur, who is my uncle and

my lord. Now thou must certainly come unto the Court of King Arthur, for

he will be wonderfully glad for to see thee, and maybe he will make thee

a Knight of his Round Table--and there is no honor in all of the world

that can be so great as that.” Thus he spoke unthinkingly; and then he

remembered. Wherefore he smote his fist against his forehead, crying

out, “Aha! aha! who am I for to bid thee to come unto the Court of King

Arthur, who only yesterday was disgraced and banished therefrom?”

Then Sir Marhaus was very sorry for Sir Gawaine, and he inquired

concerning the trouble that lay upon him, and Sir Ewaine told Sir

Marhaus all about that quarrel; at that Sir Marhaus was still more sorry

for Sir Gawaine, wherefore he said, “Messires, I like ye both

wonderfully well, and I would fain become your companion in the

adventures ye are to undertake. For now I need remain here no longer. Ye

must know that I was obliged to defend those ladies who assailed my

shield until I had overthrown seven knights in their behalf. And I must

tell ye that Sir Gawaine was the seventh knight I have overthrown.

Wherefore, since I have now overthrown him, I am now released from my

obligation and may go with ye.”

[Sidenote: _Sir Marhaus telleth his story._]

Then Sir Gawaine and Sir Ewaine were very much astonished that any

knight should lie beneath so strange an obligation as that--to defend

those who assailed his shield--and they besought Sir Marhaus to tell

them why he should have been obliged to fulfil such a pledge. So Sir

Marhaus said, “I will tell ye. The case was this: Some whiles ago I was

travelling in these parts with a hawk upon my wrist. At that time I was

clad very lightly in holiday attire, to wit: I wore a tunic of green

silk, and hosen one of green and one of white. And I had nothing upon me

by way of defence but a light buckler and a short sword. Now, coming

unto a certain stream of water, very deep and rapid, I perceived before

me a bridge of stone crossing that stream, but so narrow that only one

horseman might cross the bridge at a time. So I entered upon that bridge

and was part way across it, when I perceived a knight in armor coming

the other way. And behind the knight there sat upon a pillion a very

fair lady with golden hair and very proud of demeanor. Now, when that

knight perceived me upon the bridge, he cried aloud, ‘Get back! get

back! and suffer me to pass!’ But this I would not do, but said, ‘Not

so, Sir Knight, for, having advanced so far upon this bridge, I have

certes the right of way to complete my passage, and it is for you to

wait and to permit me to cross.’ But the knight would not do so, but

immediately put himself in posture of offence and straightway came

against me upon the bridge with intent either to slay me or to drive me

back unto the other extremity of the bridge. But this he was not able to

do, for I defended myself very well with my light weapons. And I so

pushed my horse against his horse that I drave him backward from off the

bridge and into the water, whereinto the horse and the knight and the

lady all of them fell with a terrible uproar.

“At this the lady shrieked in great measure and both she and the knight

were like to drown in the water, the knight being altogether clad in

armor, so that he could not uplift himself above the flood. Wherefore,

beholding their extremity, I leaped from off my horse and into the

water, and with great ado and with much danger unto myself, I was able

to bring them both unto the land.

“But that lady was very greatly offended with me, for her fair raiment

was altogether wet and spoiled by the water, wherefore she upbraided me

with great vehemence. So I kneeled down before her and besought her

pardon with all humility, but she still continued to upbraid me. Then I

offered unto her for to perform any penance that she might set upon me.

At this the lady appeared to be greatly mollified, for she said, ‘Very

well, I will set thee a penance,’ and when her knight had recovered she

said, ‘Come with us,’ and so I mounted my horse and followed them. So

after we had gone a considerable distance we came to this place and here

she commanded me as follows: ‘Sir Knight,’ quoth she, ‘this castle

belongeth unto me and unto this knight who is my lord. Now, this shall

be the penance for the affront thou hast given me: thou shalt take thy

shield and hang it up in yonder sycamore-tree and every day I will send

certain damsels of mine own out from the castle. And they shall offend

against that shield and thou shalt not only suffer whatever offence they

may offer, but thou shalt defend them against all comers until thou hast

overcome seven knights.’

“So I have done until this morning, when thou, Sir Gawaine, camest

hither. Thou art the seventh knight against whom I have contended, and

as I have overcome thee, my penance is now ended and I am free.”

Then Sir Gawaine and Sir Ewaine gave Sir Marhaus great joy that his

penance was completed, and they were very well satisfied each party with

the others. So Sir Gawaine and Sir Ewaine abided that night in the

pavilion of Sir Marhaus and the next morning they arose and, having

laved themselves in a forest stream, they departed from that place where

they were.

So they entered the forest land once more and made their way by certain

paths, they knew not whitherward; and they travelled all that morning

and until the afternoon was come.

[Sidenote: _The three knights enter the Forest of Adventure._]

Now, as they travelled thus Sir Marhaus said of a sudden, “Messires,

know ye where we are come to?” “Nay,” they said, “we know not.” Then Sir

Marhaus said, “This part of the forest is called Arroy and it is further

called ‘The Forest of Adventure.’ For it is very well known that when a

knight, or a party of knights enter this forest, they will assuredly

meet with an adventure of some sort, from which some come forth with

credit while others fail therein.” And Sir Ewaine said, “I am glad that

we have come hither. Now let us go forward into this forest.”

So those three knights and their esquires continued onward in that

woodland where was silence so deep that even the tread of their horses

upon the earth was scarcely to be heard. And there was no note of bird

and no sound of voice and hardly did any light penetrate into the gloom

of that woodland. Wherefore those knights said unto one another, “This

is soothly a very strange place and one, maybe, of enchantment.”

[Sidenote: _They behold a white fawn in the forest._]

[Sidenote: _They behold a beautiful lady in the forest._]

Now when they had come into the very midst of these dark woodlands, they

perceived of a sudden, in the pathway before them, a fawn as white as

milk. And round the neck of the fawn was a collar of pure gold. And the

fawn stood and looked at them, but when they had come nigh to it, it

turned and ran along a very narrow path. Then Sir Gawaine said, “Let us

follow that fawn and see where it goeth.” And the others said, “We are

content.” So they followed that narrow path until of a sudden they came

to where was a little open lawn very bright with sunlight. In the midst

of the lawn was a fountain of water, and there was no fawn to be seen,

but, lo! beside the fountain there sat a wonderfully beautiful lady,

clad all in garments of green. And the lady combed her hair with a

golden comb, and her hair was like to the wing of a raven for blackness.

And upon her arms she wore very wonderful bracelets of emeralds and of

opal stones inset into cunningly wrought gold. Moreover, the face of

the lady was like ivory for whiteness and her eyes were bright like

jewels set in ivory. Now, when this lady perceived the knights she arose

and laid aside her golden comb and bound up the locks of her hair with

ribbons of scarlet silk, and thereupon, she came to those knights and

gave them greeting.

Then those three knights gat them down straightway from off their

horses, and Sir Gawaine said, “Lady, I believe that thou art not of

mortal sort, but that thou art of faërie.” Unto this the lady said, “Sir

Gawaine, thou art right,” and Sir Gawaine marvelled that she should know

his name so well. Then he said to her, “Lady, who art thou?” and she

made answer, “My name is Nymue and I am the chiefest of those Ladies of

the Lake of whom thou mayst have heard. For it was I who gave unto King

Arthur his sword Excalibur; for I am very friendly unto King Arthur and

to all the noble Knights of his Court. So it is that I know ye all. And

I know that thou, Sir Marhaus, shall become one of the most famous

Knights of the Round Table.” And all they three marvelled at the lady’s

words. Then she said, “I prithee tell me what it is that ye seek in

these parts?” And they say, “We seek adventure.” “Well,” said she, “I

will bring you unto adventure, but it is Sir Gawaine who must undertake

it.” And Sir Gawaine said, “That is very glad news.” Then the lady said,

“Take me behind you upon your saddle, Sir Gawaine, and I will show unto

you that adventure.” So Sir Gawaine took the lady up behind him upon the

saddle, and lo! she brought with her a fragrance such as he had never

known before; for that fragrance was so subtle that it seemed to Sir

Gawaine that the forest gave forth that perfume which the Lady of the

Lake brought with her.

So the Lady of the Lake brought them by many devious ways out from that

part of the forest; and she brought them by sundry roads and paths until

they came out into an open country, very fruitful and pleasant to

behold; and she brought them up a very high hill, and from the top of

the hill they looked down upon a fruitful and level plain as upon a

table spread out before them. And they beheld that in the midst of the

plain was a noble castle built all of red stone and of red bricks; and

they beheld that there was a small town built also of red bricks.

[Sidenote: _The three knights behold a very singular assault-at-arms._]

Now as they sat their horses there on top of the hill they perceived of

a sudden a knight clad all in red armor who came forth from a glade of

trees. And they saw that the knight paraded the meadow that lay in front

of the castle, and they saw that he gave challenge to those within the

castle. Then they perceived that the drawbridge of the castle was

let fall of a sudden and that there issued from thence ten knights clad in

complete armor. And they beheld those ten knights assail the one knight

in red armor, and they beheld the one knight assail the ten. And they

beheld that for a while those ten withstood the one, but that he

assailed them so terribly that he smote down four of them very quickly.

Then they beheld that the rest brake and fled from before that one, and

that the Red Knight pursued the others about the meadow with great fury.

And they saw that he smote down one from out his saddle and another and

another until but two of those knights were left.

Then Sir Gawaine said, “That is certainly a very wonderful sight for to

see.” But the Lady of the Lake only smiled and said, “Wait a little.”

So they waited and they saw that when the Red Knight had smitten down

all of his enemies but those two, and that when he had put those two in

great peril of their lives, he of a sudden sheathed his sword and

surrendered himself unto them. And they saw that those two knights

brought the Red Knight to the castle, and that when they had brought him

there a lady upon the wall thereof bespake that Red Knight as with great

violence of language. And they beheld that those two knights took the

Red Knight and bound his hands behind his back, and that they bound his

feet beneath his horse’s belly, and that they drave him away from that

place.

All this they beheld from the top of that hill, and the Lady of the Lake

said unto Sir Gawaine, “There thou shalt find thy adventure, Sir

Gawaine.” And Sir Gawaine said, “I will go,” and the Lady of the Lake

said, “Do so.”

Thereupon, lo! she vanished from their sight and they were greatly

amazed.

[Illustration]

[Illustration: Sir Gawaine sups with yᵉ Lady Ettard.]

[Illustration] Chapter Fifth.

_How Sir Gawaine Met Sir Pellias and How He Promised to Aid Him With the

Lady Ettard._

Now, after that wonderful lady had disappeared from their sight in that

manner, those three knights stood for a little while altogether

astonished, for they wist not how to believe what their eyes had beheld.

Then, by and by, Sir Gawaine spake, saying, “Certes, that was a very

wonderful thing that happened to us, for in all my life I never knew so

strange a miracle to befall. Now, it is very plain that some excellent

adventure lieth in what we have seen, wherefore let us descend into

yonder valley, for there we shall doubtless discover what that signifies

which we have just now beheld. For I make my vow that I have hardly ever

seen so terribly powerful a knight as he who has just now fought yonder

battle, wherefore I can in no wise understand why, when he should so

nearly have obtained a victory over his enemies, he should have

surrendered himself to them as he did.”

And Sir Ewaine and Sir Marhaus agreed that it would be well to go down

and inquire what was the meaning of that which they had beheld.

So they three and their attendants rode down into the valley.

And they rode forward until they had come to a certain glade of trees

and there they beheld three goodly pavilions that stood there: the one

pavilion of white cloth, the second pavilion of green cloth, and the

third pavilion of scarlet cloth.

[Sidenote: _The three knights meet the two._]

Now, as the three knights-companion drew nigh to the pavilions, there

came forth two knights to meet them. And when Sir Gawaine and Sir Ewaine

saw the shields of the two, they immediately knew that they were Sir

Brandiles and Sir Mador de la Porte. And in the same manner Sir

Brandiles and Sir Mador de la Porte knew Sir Gawaine and Sir Ewaine, and

each party was very much astonished at thus meeting the other in so

strange a place. So when they came together they gave one another very

joyful greeting and clasped hands with strong love and good fellowship.

Then Sir Gawaine made Sir Marhaus acquainted with Sir Brandiles and Sir

Mador de la Porte and thereupon the five knights all went together into

those three pavilions, discoursing the while with great amity and

pleasure. And when they had come into the pavilion of Sir Brandiles they

found there spread a good refreshment of white bread and wine of

excellent savor.

Then after a while Sir Gawaine said to Sir Brandiles and Sir Mador de la

Porte, “Messires, we observed a little while ago a very singular thing;

for, as we stood together at the top of yonder hill and looked down into

this plain we beheld a single knight clad all in red armor who did

battle with ten knights. And that one knight in red armor combated the

ten with such fury that he drave them all from before him, though they

were so many and he but one. And truly I make my vow that I have hardly

ever seen a knight show such great prowess in arms as he. Yet, when he

had overcome all but two of those knights, and was in fair way to win a

clear victory, he suddenly yielded himself unto the two and suffered

them to take him and bind him and drive him with great indignity from

the field. Now, I pray ye, tell me what was the meaning of that which we

beheld, and who was that knight who fought so great a battle and yet

yielded himself so shamefully.”

At this Sir Brandiles and Sir Mador de la Porte made no answer, but

directed their looks another way, for they knew not what to say. But

when Sir Gawaine beheld that they were abashed he began more than ever

to wonder what that thing meant; wherefore he said, “What is this? Why

do ye not answer me? I bid ye tell me what is the meaning of your looks,

and who is that red knight!”

Then after a while Sir Mador de la Porte said, “I shall not tell you,

but you may come and see.”

Then Sir Gawaine began to think maybe there was something in this that

it would be better not to publish, and that, haply, he had best examine

further into the matter alone. So he said unto the other knights, “Bide

ye here a little, Messires, and I will go with Sir Mador de la Porte.”

[Sidenote: _Sir Mador de la Porte bringeth Sir Gawaine to Sir Pellias._]

So Sir Gawaine went with Sir Mador de la Porte, and Sir Mador led him

unto the white pavilion. And when they had come there Sir Mador drew

aside the curtains of the pavilion, and he said, “Enter!” and Sir

Gawaine entered.

Now, when he had come into the pavilion he perceived that a man sat upon

a couch of rushes covered with an azure cloth, and in a little he

perceived that man was Sir Pellias. But Sir Pellias saw not him

immediately, but sat with his head bowed, like one altogether

overwhelmed by a great despair.

But when Sir Gawaine beheld who it was that sat upon the couch, he was

greatly amazed and cried out, “Ha! is it thou, Sir Pellias? is it thou?”

But when Sir Pellias heard Sir Gawaine’s voice, and when he perceived

who it was that spake to him, he emitted an exceedingly bitter cry. And

sprang to his feet and ran as far away as the walls of the pavilion

would let him, and turned his face unto the walls thereof.

[Sidenote: _Sir Gawaine rebukes Sir Pellias._]

Then, after a while, Sir Gawaine spoke very sternly to Sir Pellias,

saying, “Messire, I am astonished and very greatly ashamed that a Knight

of King Arthur’s Royal Court and of his Round Table should behave in so

dishonorable a manner as I saw thee behave this day. For it is hardly to

be believed that a knight of such repute and nobility as thou would

suffer himself to be taken and bound by two obscure knights as thou

didst suffer thyself this day. How couldst thou bring thyself to submit

to such indignity and insult? Now, I do demand of thee that thou wilt

explain this matter unto me.”

But Sir Pellias was silent and would not make any reply. Then Sir

Gawaine cried out very fiercely, “Ha! wilt thou not answer me?” and Sir

Pellias shook his head.

Then Sir Gawaine said, still speaking very fiercely, “Messire! thou

shalt answer me one way or another! For either thou shalt tell me the

meaning of thy shameful conduct, or else thou shalt do extreme battle

with me. For I will not suffer it that thou shalt bring such shame upon

King Arthur and his Round Table without myself defending the honor and

the credit of him and of it. One while thou and I were dear friends, but

unless thou dost immediately exculpate thyself I shall hold thee in

contempt, and shall regard thee as an enemy.”

Upon this Sir Pellias spake like unto one that was nigh distracted, and

he said, “I will tell thee all.” Then he confessed everything unto Sir

Gawaine, telling all that had befallen since that time when he had left

the May Court of Queen Guinevere to enter upon this adventure, and Sir

Gawaine listened unto him with great amazement. And when Sir Pellias had

made an end of telling all that had befallen him, Sir Gawaine said,

“Certes, this is very wonderful. Indeed, I cannot understand how thou

camest to be so entangled in the charms of this lady unless she hath

bewitched thee with some great enchantment.”

Unto this Sir Pellias said, “Yea, I believe that I have been bewitched,

for I am altogether beside myself in this, and am entirely unable to

contain my passion.”

Then Sir Gawaine bethought him for a long while, considering that matter

very seriously; and by and by he said, “I have a plan, and it is this: I

will go unto the Lady Ettard myself, and will inquire diligently into

this affair. And if I find that anyone hath entangled thee in

enchantments, it will go hard with me but I will punish that one with

great dolor. For I shall not have it that another enchanter shall

beguile thee as one hath already beguiled Merlin the Wise.”

Then Sir Pellias said unto Sir Gawaine, “How wilt thou accomplish this

matter so as to gain into the presence of the Lady Ettard?”

[Sidenote: _Sir Gawaine advises with Sir Pellias._]

Thereupon Sir Gawaine replied, “That I will tell thee. We twain shall

exchange armor, and I will go unto the castle in thy armor. When I have

come there I shall say that I have overcome thee in an encounter, and

have taken thine armor away from thee. Then they will haply admit me

into the castle to hear my story, and I shall have speech with her.”

Then Sir Pellias said, “Very well; it shall be as thou dost ordain.”

So Sir Pellias summoned an esquire, and Sir Gawaine summoned his

esquire, and those two removed the armor from Sir Pellias, and clad Sir

Gawaine therein. After they had done that Sir Gawaine mounted upon the

horse of Sir Pellias, and rode openly into that field wherein Sir

Pellias had aforetime paraded.

Now, it happened that the Lady Ettard was at that time walking upon a

platform within the castle walls, from which place she looked down into

that meadow. So when she beheld a red knight parading in the meadow, she

thought it was Sir Pellias come thither again, and at that she was vexed

and affronted beyond all measure. Wherefore she said unto those nigh

her, “That knight vexes me so wofully that I fear me I shall fall ill of

vexation if he cometh here many more times. I would that I knew how to

rid myself of him; for already, and only an hour ago, I sent ten good

knights against him, and he overcame them all with great despatch and

with much dishonor unto them and unto me.”

So she beckoned to the Red Knight, and when he had come nigh to the

walls of the castle, she said to him, “Sir Knight, why dost thou come

hitherward to afflict me and to affront me thus? Canst thou not

understand that the more often thou comest to tease me in this manner,

the more do I hate thee?”

Then Sir Gawaine opened the umbril of his helmet and showed his face,

and the Lady Ettard saw that the Red Knight was not Sir Pellias. And Sir

Gawaine said, “Lady, I am not that one whom thou supposest me to be, but

another. For, behold! I have thine enemy’s armor upon my body, wherefore

thou mayst see that I have overcome him. For thou mayst suppose that it

is hardly to be thought that I could wear his armor unless I took it

from him by force of arms. Wherefore thou needst trouble thyself no more

about him.”

Then the Lady Ettard could not think otherwise than this knight (whom

she knew not) had indeed overthrown Sir Pellias in a bout of arms, and

had taken his armor away from him. And indeed she was exceedingly

astonished that such a thing could have happened; for it appeared to her

that Sir Pellias was one of the greatest knights in the world; wherefore

she marvelled who this knight could be who had overthrown him in battle.

So she gave command to sundry of those in attendance upon her that they

should go forth and bring that red knight into the castle and that they

should pay him great honor; for that he must assuredly be one of the

very greatest champions in the world.

[Sidenote: _Sir Gawaine entereth Grantmesnle._]

Thus Sir Gawaine came into the castle and was brought before the Lady

Ettard where she stood in a wonderfully large and noble hall. For that

hall was illuminated by seven tall windows of colored glass, and it was

hung around with tapestries and hangings, very rich and of a most

excellent quality, wherefore Sir Gawaine was greatly astonished at the

magnificence of all that he beheld in that place.

Now, Sir Gawaine had taken the helmet from off his head, and he bore it

under his arm and against his hip, and his head was bare so that all who

were there could see his face very plainly. Wherefore they all perceived

that he was exceedingly comely, that his eyes were as blue as steel, his

nose high and curved, and his hair and beard very dark and rich in

color. Moreover, his bearing was exceedingly steadfast and haughty, so

that those who beheld him were awed by the great knightliness of his

aspect.

Then the Lady Ettard came to Sir Gawaine and gave him her hand, and he

kneeled down and set it to his lips. And the lady bespoke him very

graciously, saying, “Sir Knight, it would give me a great deal of

pleasure if thou wouldst make us acquainted with thy name, and if thou

wouldst proclaim thy degree of estate unto us.”

Unto this Sir Gawaine made reply, “Lady, I cannot inform you of these

things at these present, being just now vowed unto secrecy upon those

points, wherefore I do crave your patience for a little.”

Then the Lady Ettard said, “Sir Knight, it is a great pity that we may

not know thy name and degree; ne’theless, though we are as yet in

ignorance as to thy quality, I yet hope that thou wilt give us the

pleasure of thy company awhile, and that thou wilt condescend to remain

within this poor place for two days or three, whiles we offer thee such

refreshment as we are able to do.”

[Sidenote: _The magical necklace enchanteth Sir Gawaine._]

Now here a very untoward thing befell. To wit, it was this: The Lady

Ettard had come to love that necklace of emeralds and of opal stones and

of gold that she had borrowed from Sir Pellias, and that to such a

degree that she never let it depart from her whether by day or by night.

Wherefore she wore it at that moment hanging about her neck and her

throat. So, as she talked to Sir Gawaine, he looked upon that necklace,

and the enchantment thereof began to take a very great hold upon him.

For he presently began to feel as though his heart was drawn with

exceeding ardency out of his bosom and unto the Lady Ettard; so much so

that, in a little while, he could not at all keep his regard withdrawn

from her. And the more that he looked upon the necklace and the lady the

more did the enchantment of the jewel take hold upon his spirits.

Accordingly, when the Lady Ettard spake so graciously unto him, he was

very glad to accept of her kindness; wherefore he said, gazing very

ardently at her the whiles, “Lady, thou art exceedingly gentle to extend

so great a courtesy unto me; wherefore I shall be glad beyond measure

for to stay with thee for a short while.”

At these words the Lady Ettard was very greatly pleased, for she said to

herself, “Certes, this knight (albeit I know not who he may be) must be

a champion of extraordinary prowess and of exalted achievement. Now, if

I can persuade him to remain in this castle as my champion, then shall I

doubtless gain very great credit thereby; for I shall have one for to

defend my rights who must assuredly be the greatest knight in all the

world.” Wherefore she set forth every charm and grace of demeanor to

please Sir Gawaine, and Sir Gawaine was altogether delighted by the

kindness of her manner.

Now, Sir Engamore was there present at that time, wherefore he was very

greatly troubled in spirit. For in the same degree that Sir Gawaine

received courtesy from the Lady Ettard, in that same degree Sir Engamore

was cast down into great sorrow and distress--so much so that it was a

pity for to see him. For Sir Engamore said to himself, “Aforetime, ere

these foreign knights came hitherward, the Lady Ettard was very kind to

me, and was willing to take me for her champion and lord. But first came

Sir Pellias and overthrew me, and now cometh this strange knight and

overthroweth him, wherefore, in the presence of such a great champion

as this, I am come to be as nothing in her sight.” So Sir Engamore

withdrew himself from that place and went unto his closet, where he sat

himself down alone in great sorrow.

Now the Lady Ettard had given command that a very noble and splendid

feast should be prepared for Sir Gawaine and for herself, and whilst it

was preparing she and Sir Gawaine walked together in the pleasaunce of

the castle. For there was a very pleasant shade in the place, and

flowers grew there in great abundance, and many birds sang very sweetly

in among the blossoms of the trees. And as Sir Gawaine and the lady

walked thus together, the attendants stood at a little distance and

regarded them. And they said to one another, “Assuredly it would be a

very good thing if the Lady Ettard would take this knight for her

champion, and if he should stay here in Grantmesnle forever.”

[Sidenote: _Sir Gawaine and the Lady Ettard feast together._]

So Sir Gawaine and the lady walked together, talking very cheerfully,

until sunset, and at that time the supper was prepared and they went in

and sat down to it. And as they supped, a number of pages, very fair of

face, played upon harps before them; and sundry damsels sang very

sweetly in accord to that music, so that the bosom of Sir Gawaine was

greatly expanded with joy. Wherefore he said to himself, “Why should I

ever leave this place? Lo! I have been banished from King Arthur’s

Court; why then should I not establish here a Court of mine own that

might, in time, prove to be like to his for glory?” And the Lady Ettard

was so beautiful in his eyes that this seemed to him to be a wonderfully

pleasant thought.

* * * * *

Now turn we unto Sir Pellias:

[Sidenote: _Sir Pellias is a-doubt._]

For after Sir Gawaine had left him, the heart of Sir Pellias began to

misgive him that he had not been wise; and at last he said to himself,

“Suppose that Sir Gawaine should forget his duty to me when he meeteth

the Lady Ettard. For it seems that haply she possesses some potent charm

that might well draw the heart of Sir Gawaine unto her. Wherefore if Sir

Gawaine should come within the circle of such enchantment as that, he

may forget his duty unto me and may transgress against the honor of his

knighthood.”

And the more that Sir Pellias thought of this the more troubled he grew

in his mind. So at last, when evening had fallen, he called an esquire

unto him and he said, “Go, and fetch me hither the garb of a black

friar, for I would fain go unto the castle of Grantmesnle in disguise.”

So the esquire went as he commanded and brought him such a garb, and Sir

Pellias clad himself therein.

Now, by that time, the darkness had come entirely over the face of the

earth so that it would not have been possible for anyone to know Sir

Pellias, even if they had seen his face. So he went unto the castle, and

they who were there, thinking that he was a black friar, as he appeared

to be, admitted him into the castle by the postern gate.

[Sidenote: _Sir Pellias cometh to the castle in disguise._]

So, as soon as Sir Pellias had come into the castle, he began to make

diligent inquiry concerning where he might find that knight who had come

thither in the afternoon, and those within the castle, still thinking

him to be a friar of black orders, said unto him, “What would ye with

that knight?” To the which Sir Pellias said, “I have a message for him.”

They of the castle said, “Ye cannot come at that knight just now, for he

is at supper with the Lady Ettard, and he holds her in pleasant

discourse.”

At this Sir Pellias began to wax very angry, for he greatly misliked the

thought that Sir Gawaine should then make merry with the Lady Ettard. So

he said, speaking very sternly, “I must presently have speech with that

knight, wherefore I bid ye to bring me unto him without delay.” Then

they of the castle said, “Wait and we will see if that knight is willing

to have you come to him.”

So one of the attendants went unto that place where Sir Gawaine sat at

supper with the Lady Ettard, and he said, “Sir Knight, there hath come

hither a black friar who demandeth to have present speech with thee, and

he will not be denied, but continually maketh that demand.”

At this Sir Gawaine was greatly troubled in his conscience, for he knew

that he was not dealing honorably by Sir Pellias, and he pondered

whether or not this black friar might be a messenger from his friend.

But yet he could not see how he might deny such a messenger speech with

him. So, after a while of thought, he said, “Fetch the black friar

hither and let him deliver his message to me.”

So Sir Pellias, in the garb of a black friar, was brought by the

attendants into the outer room of that place where Sir Gawaine sat at

supper with the lady. But for a little time Sir Pellias did not enter

the room, but stood behind the curtain of the ante-room and looked upon

them, for he desired to make sure as to whether or no Sir Gawaine was

true to him.

Now everything in that room where the knight and the lady sat was

bedight with extraordinary splendor, and it was illuminated by a light

of several score of waxen tapers that sent forth a most delightful

perfume as they burned. And as Sir Pellias stood behind the curtains, he

beheld Sir Gawaine and the Lady Ettard as they sat at the table

together, and he saw that they were filled with pleasure in the company

of one another. And he saw that Sir Gawaine and the lady quaffed wine

out of the same chalice and that the cup was of gold. And as he saw

those two making merry with one another, he was filled with great anger

and indignation, for he now perceived that Sir Gawaine had betrayed him.

So, by and by, he could contain himself no longer, wherefore he took

five steps into that room and stood before Sir Gawaine and the Lady

Ettard. And, when they looked upon him in great surprise, he cast back

the hood from his face and they knew him. Then the Lady Ettard shrieked

with great vehemence, crying out, “I have been betrayed!” and Sir

Gawaine sat altogether silent, for he had not a single word to say

either to the lady or to Sir Pellias.

[Sidenote: _Sir Pellias places affront upon Sir Gawaine._]

Then Sir Pellias came close to the Lady Ettard with such a fell

countenance that she could not move for fear. And when he had come nigh

to her he catched that necklace of emeralds and opal stones and gold

with such violence that he brake the clasp thereof and so plucked it

from her neck. Then he said, “This is mine and thou hast no right to

it!” And therewith he thrust it into his bosom. Then he turned upon Sir

Gawaine where he sat, and he said, “Thou art false both unto thy

knighthood and unto thy friendship, for thou hast betrayed me utterly.”

Thereupon he raised his arm and smote Sir Gawaine upon the face with the

back of his hand so violently that the mark of his fingers was left in

red all across the cheek of Sir Gawaine.

Then Sir Gawaine fell as pale as ashes and he cried out, “Sir, I have in

sooth betrayed thee, but thou hast offered such affront to me that our

injury is equal.” To the which Sir Pellias made reply, “Not so; for the

injury I gave to thee is only upon thy cheek, but the injury thou gavest

to me is upon my heart. Ne’theless, I will answer unto thee for the

affront I have done thee. But thou also shalt answer unto me for the

offence thou hast done unto me, in that thou hast betrayed me.”

Then Sir Gawaine said, “I am willing to answer unto thee in full

measure.” And Sir Pellias said, “Thou shalt indeed do so.” Thereupon he

turned and left that place, nor did he so much as look again either at

Sir Gawaine or at the Lady Ettard.

But, now that the Lady Ettard no longer had the magic collar about her

neck, Sir Gawaine felt nothing of the great enchantment that had

aforetime drawn him so vehemently unto her. Accordingly, he now suffered

a misliking for her as great as that liking which had aforetime drawn

him unto her. Wherefore he said to himself, “How was it possible that

for this lady I could have so betrayed my knighthood and have done so

much harm unto my friend!” So he pushed back his chair very violently

and arose from that table with intent to leave her.

[Sidenote: _Sir Gawaine and the Lady Ettard speak bitterly together._]

But when the Lady Ettard saw his intent she spake to him with very great

anger, for she was very much affronted in that he had deceived her when

he said that he had overcome Sir Pellias. Wherefore she said with great

heat, “Thou mayst go, and I am very willing for to have thee do so, for

thou didst say false when thou didst tell me that thou hadst overcome

Sir Pellias. For now I perceive that he is both a stronger and a nobler

knight than thou. For he smote thee as though thou wert his servant, and

thou yet bearest the marks of his fingers upon thy cheek.”

At this Sir Gawaine was exceedingly wroth and entirely filled with the

shame of that which had befallen him, wherefore he said, “Lady, I think

thou hast bewitched me to bring me to such a pass of dishonor. As for

Sir Pellias, look forth into that meadow to-morrow and see if I do not

put a deeper mark upon him than ever he hath put upon me.” Thereupon he

left that place and went down into the court-yard and called upon the

attendants who were there for to fetch him his horse. So they did as he

commanded and he straightway rode forth into the night.

And he was very glad of the darkness of the night, for it appeared to

him that it was easier to bear his shame in the darkness, wherefore when

he had come to the glade of trees he would not enter the pavilion where

his friends were. And also, when Sir Ewaine and Sir Marhaus came out

unto him and bade him to come in, he would not do so but stayed without

in the darkness; for he said unto himself, “If I go in where is a light,

haply they will behold the mark of Sir Pellias his hand upon my face.”

So he stayed without in the darkness and bade them to go away and leave

him alone.

But when they had gone he called his esquire unto him and he said, “Take

this red armor off me and carry it into the pavilion of Sir Pellias, for

I hate it.” So the esquire did as Sir Gawaine commanded, and Sir Gawaine

walked up and down for the entire night, greatly troubled in spirit and

in heart.

[Illustration: The Lady of the Lake finds Sr. Pellias wounded.]

[Illustration] Chapter Sixth.

_How the Lady of the Lake Took Back Her Necklace From Sir Pellias._

[Sidenote: _Sir Gawaine issues challenge to Sir Pellias._]

Now, when the next morning had come, Sir Gawaine summoned his esquire

unto him and said, “Fetch hither my armor and case me in it.” And the

esquire did so. Then Sir Gawaine said, “Help me unto my horse,” and the

esquire did so. And the morning was still very early, with the grass all

lustrous and sparkling with dew, and the little birds singing with such

vehemence that it might have caused anyone great joy to be alive.

Wherefore, when Sir Gawaine was seated a-horseback and in armor, he

began to take more courage unto himself, and the dark vapors that had

whilom overshadowed him lifted themselves a little. So he bespoke his

esquire with stronger voice, saying, “Take this glove of mine and bear

it to Sir Pellias and tell him that Sir Gawaine parades in the meadow in

front of the castle and that he there challenges Sir Pellias for to meet

him a-horse or afoot, howsoever that knight may choose.”

At these that esquire was very much astonished, for Sir Gawaine and Sir

Pellias had always been such close friends that there was hardly their

like for friendship in all that land, wherefore their love for one

another had become a byword with all men. But he held his peace

concerning his thoughts and only said, “Wilt thou not eat food ere thou

goest to battle?” And Sir Gawaine said, “Nay, I will not eat until I

have fought. Wherefore do thou go and do as I have bid thee.”

So Sir Gawaine’s esquire went to Sir Pellias in his pavilion and he gave

unto that knight the glove of Sir Gawaine, and he delivered Sir

Gawaine’s message to him. And Sir Pellias said, “Tell thy master that I

will come forth to meet him as soon as I have broken my fast.”

Now, when the news of that challenge had come to the ears of Sir

Brandiles and Sir Mador de la Porte and Sir Ewaine and Sir Marhaus,

those knights were greatly disturbed thereat, and Sir Ewaine said to

the others, “Messires, let us go and make inquiries concerning this

business.” So the four knights went to the white pavilion where Sir

Pellias was breaking his fast.

And when they had come into the presence of Sir Pellias, Sir Ewaine said

to him, “What is this quarrel betwixt my kinsman and thee?” And Sir

Pellias made reply, “I will not tell thee, so, let be and meddle not

with it.”

Then Sir Ewaine said, “Wouldst thou do serious battle with thy friend?”

To which Sir Pellias said, “He is a friend to me no longer.”

Then Sir Brandiles cried out, “It is a great pity that a quarrel should

lie betwixt such friends as thou and Sir Gawaine. Wilt thou not let us

make peace betwixt you?” But Sir Pellias replied, “Ye cannot make peace,

for this quarrel cannot be stayed until it is ended.”

Then those knights saw that their words could be of no avail and they

went away and left Sir Pellias.

So when Sir Pellias had broken his fast he summoned an esquire named

Montenoir, and he bade him case him in that red armor that he had worn

for all this time, and Montenoir did so. Then, when Sir Pellias was clad

in that armor, he rode forth into the meadow before the castle where Sir

Gawaine paraded. And when he had come thither those four other knights

came to him again and besought him that he would let peace be made

betwixt him and Sir Gawaine, but Sir Pellias would not listen to them,

and so they went away again and left him, and he rode forth into the

field before the castle of Grantmesnle.

Now a great concourse of people had come down upon the castle walls for

to behold that assault-at-arms, for news thereof had gone all about that

place. And it had also come to be known that the knight that would do

combat with Sir Pellias was that very famous royal knight hight Sir

Gawaine, the son of King Lot of Orkney, and a nephew of King Arthur;

wherefore all the people were very desirous to behold so famous a knight

do battle.

Likewise the Lady Ettard came down to the walls and took her stand in a

lesser tower that overlooked the field of battle. And when she had taken

her stand at that place she beheld that Sir Pellias wore that necklace

of emeralds and opal stones and gold above his body armor, and her heart

went out to him because of it, wherefore she hoped that he might be the

victor in that encounter.

[Sidenote: _Sir Pellias and Sir Gawaine do battle._]

[Sidenote: _Sir Pellias overthroweth Sir Gawaine._]

Then each knight took his station in such place as seemed to him to be

fitting, and they dressed each his spear and his shield and made him

ready for the assault. Then, when they were in all ways prepared, Sir

Marhaus gave the signal for the assault. Thereupon each knight instantly

quitted that station which he held, dashing against the other with the

speed of lightning, and with such fury that the earth thundered and

shook beneath their horses’ hoofs. So they met fairly in the centre of

the course, each knight striking the other in the very midst of his

defences. And in that encounter the spear of Sir Gawaine burst even to

the hand-guard, but the spear of Sir Pellias held, so that Sir Gawaine

was cast out of his saddle with terrible violence, smiting the earth

with such force that he rolled thrice over in the dust and then lay

altogether motionless as though bereft of life.

At this, all those people upon the walls shouted with a great voice, for

it was an exceedingly noble assault-at-arms.

Then the four knights who stood watching that encounter made all haste

unto Sir Gawaine where he lay; and Sir Pellias also rode back and sat

his horse nigh at hand. Then Sir Ewaine and Sir Gawaine’s esquire

unlaced the helmet of Sir Gawaine with all speed, and, behold! his face

was the color of ashes and they could not see that he breathed.

Thereupon Sir Marhaus said, “I believe that thou hast slain this knight,

Sir Pellias,” and Sir Pellias said, “Dost thou think so?” “Yea,” quoth

Sir Marhaus, “and I deem it a great pity.” Unto which Sir Pellias made

reply, “He hath not suffered more than he deserved.”

At these words Sir Ewaine was filled with great indignation, wherefore

he cried out, “Sir Knight, I think that thou forgettest the quality of

this knight. For not only is he a fellow-companion of the Round Table,

to whom thou hast vowed entire brotherhood, but he is also the son of a

king and the nephew of King Arthur himself.”

But to this Sir Pellias maintained a very steadfast countenance and

replied, “I would not repent me of this were that knight a king in his

own right instead of the son of a king.”

Then Sir Ewaine lifted up his voice with great indignation, crying out

upon Sir Pellias, “Begone! or a great ill may befall thee.” “Well,” said

Sir Pellias, “I will go.”

Upon this he turned his horse and rode away from that place and entered

the woodland and so was gone from their sight.

[Sidenote: _Sir Pellias departs into the forest._]

Then those others present lifted up Sir Gawaine and bare him away unto

the pavilion late of Sir Pellias, and there they laid him upon the couch

of Sir Pellias. But it was above an hour ere he recovered himself again;

and for a great part of that while those nigh unto him believed him to

have been dead.

[Sidenote: _Sir Pellias is sore wounded._]

But not one of those knights wist what was the case; to wit, that Sir

Pellias had been so sorely wounded in the side in that encounter that it

was not to be hoped that he could live for more than that day. For,

though the spear of Sir Gawaine had burst, and though Sir Pellias had

overthrown him entirely, yet the head of Sir Gawaine’s spear had pierced

the armor of Sir Pellias, and had entered his side and had there broken

off, so that of the iron of the spear, the length of the breadth of a

palm had remained in the body of Sir Pellias a little above the midriff.

Wherefore, while Sir Pellias sat there talking so steadfastly unto those

four knights, he was yet whiles in a great passion of pain, and the

blood ran down into his armor in abundance. So, what with the loss of

the blood, and of the great agony which he suffered, the brain of Sir

Pellias swam as light as a feather all the time that he held talk with

those others. But he said not a word unto them concerning the grievous

wound he had received, but rode away very proudly into the forest.

But when he had come into the forest he could not forbear him any

longer, but fell to groaning very sorely, crying out, “Alas! alas! I

have certes got my death-wound in this battle!”

Now it chanced that morn that the damsel Parcenet had ridden forth to

fly a young gerfalcon, and a dwarf belonging to the Lady Ettard had

ridden with her for company. So, as the damsel and the dwarf rode

through a certain part of the forest skirt, not a very great distance

from Grantmesnle, where the thicker part of the woodland began and the

thinner part thereof ceased, the damsel heard a voice in the woodlands,

lamenting with very great dolor. So she stopped and harkened, and by and

by she heard that voice again making a great moan. Then Parcenet said to

the dwarf, “What is that I hear? Certes, it is the voice of someone in

lamentation. Now let us go and see who it is that maketh such woful

moan.” And the dwarf said, “It shall be as thou sayest.”

[Sidenote: _How Parcenet findeth Sir Pellias wounded in the forest._]

So the damsel and the dwarf went a little way farther and there they

beheld a knight sitting upon a black horse beneath an oak-tree. And that

knight was clad altogether in red armor, wherefore, Parcenet knew that

it must be Sir Pellias. And she saw that Sir Pellias leaned with the

butt of his spear upon the ground and so upheld himself upon his horse

from which he would otherwise have fallen because of his great weakness,

and all the while he made that great moan that Parcenet had heard. So,

seeing him in this sorry condition, Parcenet was overcome with great

pity, and she made haste to him crying out, “Alas! Sir Pellias, what

ails thee?”

Then Sir Pellias looked at her as though she were a great way removed

from him, and, because of the faintness of his soul, he beheld her, as

it were, through thin water. And he said, very faintly, “Maiden, I am

sore hurt.” Thereupon she said, “How art thou hurt, Sir Pellias?” And he

replied, “I have a grievous wound in my side, for a spear’s point

standeth therein nigh a palm’s breadth deep so that it reaches nearly to

my heart, wherefore, meseems that I shall not live for very long.”

Upon this the maiden cried out, “Alas! alas! what is this!” and she made

great lament and smote her hands together with sorrow that that noble

knight should have come to so grievous an extremity.

Then the dwarf that was with Parcenet, seeing how greatly she was

distracted by sorrow, said, “Damsel, I know of a certain place in this

forest (albeit it is a considerable distance from this) where there

dwelleth a certain very holy hermit who is an extraordinarily skilful

leech. Now, an we may bring this knight unto the chapel where that

hermit dwelleth, I believe that he may be greatly holpen unto health and

ease again.”

Upon this Parcenet said, “Gansaret”--for Gansaret was the dwarf’s

name--“Gansaret, let us take this knight unto that place as quickly as

we are able. For I tell thee sooth when I say that I have a very great

deal of love for him.” “Well,” said the dwarf, “I will show thee where

that chapel is.”

So the dwarf took the horse of Sir Pellias by the bridle-rein and led

the way through that forest, and Parcenet rode beside Sir Pellias and

upheld him upon his saddle. For some whiles Sir Pellias fainted with

sickness and with pain so that he would else have fallen had she not

upheld him. Thus they went forward very sorrowfully and at so slow a

pace that it was noontide ere they came to that certain very dense and

lonely part of the forest where the hermit abided.

And when they had come unto that place the dwarf said, “Yonder, damsel,

is the chapel whereof I spake.”

Then Parcenet lifted up her eyes and she beheld where was a little

woodland chapel built in among the leafy trees of the forest. And around

this chapel was a little open lawn bedight with flowers, and nigh to the

door of the hermitage was a fountain of water as clear as crystal. And

this was a very secret and lonely place and withal very silent and

peaceful, for in front of the chapel they beheld a wild doe and her fawn

browsing upon the tender grass and herbs without any fear of harm. And

when the dwarf and the maiden and the wounded knight drew nigh, the doe

and the fawn looked up with great wide eyes and spread their large ears

with wonder, yet fled not, fearing no harm, but by and by began their

browsing again. Likewise all about the chapel in the branches of the

trees were great quantities of birds, singing and chirping very

cheerfully. And those birds were waiting for their mid-day meal that the

hermit was used to cast unto them.

(Now this was that same forest sanctuary whereunto King Arthur had come

that time when he had been so sorely wounded by Sir Pellinore as hath

been aforetold in this history.)

As the maiden and the dwarf and the wounded knight drew nigh to this

chapel, a little bell began ringing very sweetly so that the sound

thereof echoed all through those quiet woodlands, for it was now the

hour of noon. And Sir Pellias heard that bell as it were a great way

off, and first he said, “Whither am I come?” and then he made shift to

cross himself. And Parcenet crossed herself and the dwarf kneeled down

and crossed himself. Then when the bell had ceased ringing, the dwarf

cried out in a loud voice, “What ho! what ho! here is one needing help!”

[Sidenote: _Parcenet and the dwarf bring Sir Pellias to the hermit of

the forest._]

Then the door of the sanctuary was opened and there came forth from that

place a very venerable man with a long white beard as it were of finely

carded wool. And, lo! as he came forth, all those birds that waited

there flew about him in great quantities, for they thought that he had

come forth for to feed them; wherefore the hermit was compelled to brush

those small fowls away with his hands as he came unto where the three

were stationed.

And when he had come unto them he demanded of them who they were and why

they had come thither with that wounded knight. So Parcenet told him how

it was with them, and of how they had found Sir Pellias so sorely

wounded in the forest that morning and had brought him hitherward.

Then, when the hermit had heard all of her story, he said, “It is well

and I will take him in.” So he took Sir Pellias into his cell, and when

they had helped lay him upon the couch, Parcenet and the dwarf went

their way homeward again.

After they had gone, the hermit examined the hurt of Sir Pellias, and

Sir Pellias lay in a deep swoon. And the swoon was so deep that the

hermit beheld that it was the death-swoon, and that the knight was nigh

to his end. So he said, “This knight must assuredly die in a very little

while, for I can do naught to save him.” Wherefore he immediately

quitted the side of Sir Pellias and set about in haste to prepare the

last sacrament such as might be administered unto a noble knight who was

dying.

[Sidenote: _The Lady of the Lake cometh to Sir Pellias._]

Now whiles the hermit was about this business the door opened of a

sudden and there came into that place a very strange lady clad all in green

and bedight around the arms with armlets of emeralds and opal stones inset

into gold. And her hair, which was very soft, was entirely black and was

tied about with a cord of crimson ribbon. And the hermit beheld that her

face was like to ivory for whiteness and that her eyes were bright, like

unto jewels set into ivory, wherefore he knew that she was no ordinary

mortal.

And this lady went straight to Sir Pellias and leaned over him so that

her breath touched his forehead. And she said, “Alas! Sir Pellias, that

thou shouldst lie so.” “Lady,” said the hermit, “thou mayst well say

‘Alas,’ for this knight hath only a few minutes to live.” To this the

lady said, “Not so, thou holy man, for I tell thee that this knight

shall have a long while yet to live.” And when she had said this she

stooped and took from about his neck that necklace of emeralds and opal

stones and gold that encircled it and she hung it about her own neck.

Now when the hermit beheld what she did, he said, “Lady, what is this

that thou doest, and why dost thou take that ornament from a dying man?”

But the lady made reply very tranquilly, “I gave it unto him, wherefore

I do but take back again what is mine own. But now I prithee let me be

with this knight for a little while, for I have great hope that I may

bring back life unto him again.”

Then the hermit was a-doubt and he said, “Wilt thou endeavor to heal him

by magic?” And the lady said, “If I do, it will not be by magic that is

black.”

So the hermit was satisfied and went away, and left the lady alone with

Sir Pellias.

[Sidenote: _The Lady of the Lake healeth Sir Pellias._]

Now when the lady was thus alone with the wounded knight she immediately

set about doing sundry very strange things. For first she brought forth

a loadstone of great power and potency and this she set to the wound.

And, lo! the iron of the spear-head came forth from the wound; and as it

came Sir Pellias groaned with great passion. And when the spear-point

came forth there burst out a great issue of blood like to a fountain of

crimson. But the lady immediately pressed a fragrant napkin of fine

cambric linen to the wound and stanched the blood, and it bled no more,

for she held it within the veins by very potent spells of magic. So, the

blood being stanched in this wise, the lady brought forth from her bosom

a small crystal phial filled with an elixir of blue color and of a very

singular fragrance. And she poured some of this elixir between the cold

and leaden lips of the knight; and when the elixir touched his lips the

life began to enter into his body once more; for, in a little while, he

opened his eyes and gazed about him with a very strange look, and the

first thing that he beheld was that lady clad in green who stood beside

him, and she was so beautiful that he thought that haply he had died and

was in Paradise, wherefore he said, “Am I then dead?”

“Nay, thou art not dead,” said the lady, “yet hast thou been parlously

nigh to death.” “Where then am I?” said Sir Pellias. And she replied,

“Thou art in a deep part of the forest, and this is the cell of a

saint-like hermit of the forest.” At this Sir Pellias said, “Who is it

that hath brought me back to life?” Upon this the lady smiled and said,

“It was I.”

Now for a little while Sir Pellias lay very silent, then by and by he

spake and said, “Lady, I feel very strangely.” “Yea,” said the lady,

“that is because thou hast now a different life.” Then Sir Pellias said,

“How is it with me?” And the lady said, “It is thus: that to bring thee

back to life I gave thee to drink of a certain draught of an _elixir

vitæ_ so that thou art now only half as thou wert before; for if by the

one half thou art mortal, by the other half thou art fay.”

[Sidenote: _Sir Pellias loveth the Lady of the Lake._]

Then Sir Pellias looked up and beheld that the lady had about her neck

the collar of emeralds and opal stones and gold which he had aforetime

worn. And, lo! his heart went out to her with exceeding ardor, and he

said, “Lady, thou sayest that I am half fay, and I do perceive that thou

art altogether fay. Now, I pray thee to let it be that henceforth I may

abide nigh unto where thou art.” And the lady said, “It shall be as thou

dost ask, for it was to that end I have suffered thee nearly to die, and

then have brought thee back unto life again.”

Then Sir Pellias said, “When may I go with thee?” And she said, “In a

little when thou hast had to drink.” “How may that be?” said Sir

Pellias, “seeing that I am but yet like unto a little child for

weakness.” To the which the lady made reply, “When thou hast drunk of

water thy strength shall return unto thee, and thou shalt be altogether

well and whole again.”

So the Lady of the Lake went out, and presently returned, bearing in her

hand an earthen crock filled with water from the fountain near at hand.

And when Sir Pellias had drunk that water he felt, of a sudden, his

strength come altogether back to him.

Yet he was not at all as he had been before, for now his body felt as

light as air, and his soul was dilated with a pure joy such as he had

never felt in his life before that time. Wherefore he immediately uprose

from his couch of pain, and he said, “Thou hast given life unto me

again, now do I give that life unto thee forever.”

Then the lady looked upon him and smiled with great loving-kindness. And

she said, “Sir Pellias, I have held thee in tender regard ever since I

beheld thee one day in thy young knighthood drink a draught of milk at a

cottager’s hut in this forest. For the day was warm and thou hadst set

aside thy helmet, and a young milkmaid, brown of face and with bare

feet, came and brought thee a bowl of milk, which same thou didst drink

of with great appetite. That was the first time that I beheld

thee--although thou didst not see me. Since that time I have had great

friendship for all thy fellowship of King Arthur’s Court and for King

Arthur himself, all for thy sake.”

Then Sir Pellias said, “Lady, wilt thou accept me for thy knight?” and

she said, “Aye.” Then Sir Pellias said, “May I salute thee?” And she

said, “Yea, if it pleasures thee.” So Sir Pellias kissed her upon the

lips, and so their troth was plighted.

* * * * *

Now return we unto Parcenet and the dwarf:

[Sidenote: _Parcenet bringeth news of Sir Pellias to Sir Mador de la

Porte._]

After those two had left that hermitage in the woodland, they betook

their way again toward Grantmesnle, and when they had come nigh out of

the forest at a place not far from the glade of trees wherein those

knights-companion had taken up their inn, they met one of those knights

clad in half-armor, and that knight was Sir Mador de la Porte. Then

Parcenet called upon him by name, saying, “Alas! Sir Mador, I have but

this short time quitted a hermit’s cell in the forest where I left Sir

Pellias sorely wounded to death, so I fear me he hath only a little

while to live.”

Then Sir Mador de la Porte cried out, “Ha! maiden, what is this thou

tellest me? That is a very hard thing to believe; for when Sir Pellias

quitted us this morn he gave no sign of wound or disease of any sort.”

But Parcenet replied, “Ne’theless, I myself beheld him lying in great

pain and dole, and, ere he swooned his death-swoon, he himself told me

that he had the iron of a spear in his side.”

Then Sir Mador de la Porte said, “Alas! alas! that is sorry news! Now,

damsel, by thy leave and grace, I will leave thee and hasten to my

companions to tell them this news.” And Parcenet said, “I prithee do

so.”

So Sir Mador de la Porte made haste to the pavilion where were his

companions, and he told them the news that he had heard.

Now at this time Sir Gawaine was altogether recovered from the violent

overthrow he had suffered that morning, wherefore when he heard the news

that Sir Mador de la Porte brought to him, he smote his hands together

and cried out aloud, “Woe is me! what have I done! For first I betrayed

my friend, and now I have slain him. Now I will go forth straightway to

find him and to crave his forgiveness ere he die.”

But Sir Ewaine said, “What is this that thou wouldst do? Thou art not

yet fit to undertake any journey.”

[Sidenote: _Sir Gawaine departeth to find Sir Pellias._]

Sir Gawaine said, “I care not, for I am determined to go and find my

friend.” Nor would he suffer any of his companions to accompany him; but

when he had summoned his esquire to bring him his horse, he mounted

thereon and rode away into the forest alone, betaking his way to the

westward, and lamenting with great sorrow as he journeyed forward.

Now when the afternoon had fallen very late, so that the sun was sloping

to its setting, and the light fell as red as fire through the forest

leaves, Sir Gawaine came to that hermit’s cell where it stood in the

silent and solitary part of the forest woodland. And he beheld that the

hermit was outside of his cell digging in a little garden of lentils. So

when the hermit saw the armed knight come into that lawn all in the red

light of the setting sun, he stopped digging and leaned upon his trowel.

Then Sir Gawaine drew nigh, and, as he sat upon his horse, he told the

holy man of the business whereon he had come.

To this the hermit said, “There came a lady hither several hours ago,

and she was clad all in green, and was of a very singular appearance, so

that it was easy to see that she was fay. And by means of certain charms

of magic that lady cured thy friend, and after she had healed him, the

two rode away into the forest together.”

Then Sir Gawaine was very much amazed, and he said, “This is a very

strange thing that thou tellest me, that a knight who is dying should be

brought back to life again in so short a time, and should so suddenly

ride forth from a bed of pain. Now, I prithee tell me whither they

went.” The hermit said, “They went to the westward.” Whereupon, when Sir

Gawaine heard this, he said, “I will follow them.”

[Sidenote: _Sir Gawaine follows a singular light._]

So he rode away and left the hermit gazing after him. And as he rode

forward upon his way, the twilight began to fall apace, so that the

woodlands after a while grew very dark and strange all around him. But

as the darkness descended a very singular miracle happened, for, lo!

there appeared before Sir Gawaine, a light of a pale blue color, and it

went before him and showed him the way, and he followed it, much

marvelling.

Now after he had followed the light for a very long time he came at

last, of a sudden, to where the woodland ceased, and where there was a

wide, open plain of very great extent. And this plain was all

illuminated by a singular radiance which was like that of a clear full

moonlight, albeit no moon was shining at that time. And in that pale and

silver light Sir Gawaine could see everything with wonderful

distinctness; wherefore he beheld that he was in a plain covered all

over with flowers of divers sorts, the odors whereof so filled the night

that it appeared to press upon the bosom with a great pleasure. And he

beheld that in front of him lay a great lake, very wide and still. And

all those things appeared so strange in that light that Sir Gawaine

wotted that he had come into a land of faëry. So he rode among tall

flowers toward that lake in a sort of fear, for he wist not what was to

befall him.

Now as he drew near the lake he perceived a knight and a lady

approaching him; and when they had come nigh he beheld that the knight

was Sir Pellias, and that his countenance was exceedingly strange. And

he beheld that the lady was she whom he had aforetime seen all clad in

green apparel when he had travelled in the Forest of Adventure with Sir

Ewaine and Sir Marhaus.

[Sidenote: _Sir Gawaine findeth Sir Pellias._]

Now when Sir Gawaine first beheld Sir Pellias he was filled with a great

fear, for he thought it was a spirit that he saw. But when he perceived

that Sir Pellias was alive, there came into his bosom a joy as great as

that fear had been; wherefore he made haste toward Sir Pellias. And when

he had come near to Sir Pellias, he leaped from off of his horse, crying

out, “Forgive! Forgive!” with great vehemence of passion. Then he would

have taken Sir Pellias into his arms, but Sir Pellias withdrew himself

from the contact of Sir Gawaine, though not with any violence of anger.

And Sir Pellias spake in a voice very thin and of a silvery clearness as

though it came from a considerable distance, and he said, “Touch me not,

for I am not as I was aforetime, being not all human, but part fay. But

concerning my forgiveness: I do forgive thee whatsoever injury I may

have suffered at thy hands. And more than this I give unto thee my love,

and I greatly hope for thy joy and happiness. But now I go away to leave

thee, dear friend, and haply I shall not behold thee again, wherefore I

do leave this with thee as my last behest; to wit, that thou dost go

back to King Arthur’s Court and make thy peace with the Queen. So thou

mayst bring them news of all that hath happened unto me.”

Then Sir Gawaine cried out in great sorrow, “Whither wouldst thou go?”

And Sir Pellias said, “I shall go to yonder wonderful city of gold and

azure which lieth in yonder valley of flowers.”

Then Sir Gawaine said, “I see no city but only a lake of water.”

Whereupon Sir Pellias replied, “Ne’theless, there is a city yonder and

thither I go, wherefore I do now bid thee farewell.”

Then Sir Gawaine looked into the face of Sir Pellias and beheld again

that strange light that it was of a very singular appearance, for, lo!

it was white like to ivory and his eyes shone like jewels set in ivory,

and a smile lay upon his lips and grew neither more nor less, but always

remained the same. (For those who were of that sort had always that

singular appearance and smiled in that manner--to wit, the Lady of the

Lake, and Sir Pellias, and Sir Launcelot of the Lake.)

[Sidenote: _Sir Pellias disappeareth into the lake._]

Then Sir Pellias and the Lady of the Lake turned and left Sir Gawaine

where he stood, and they went toward the lake, and they entered the

lake, and when the feet of the horse of Sir Pellias had touched the

water of the lake, lo! Sir Pellias was gone and Sir Gawaine beheld him

no more, although he stood there for a long time weeping with great

passion.

So endeth the story of Sir Pellias.

* * * * *

But Sir Gawaine returned unto the Court of King Arthur as he had

promised Sir Pellias to do, and he made his peace with Queen Guinevere

and, thereafter, though the Queen loved him not, yet there was a peace

betwixt them. And Sir Gawaine published these things to the Court of

King Arthur and all men marvelled at what he told.

And only twice thereafter was Sir Pellias ever seen of any of his

aforetime companions.

And Sir Marhaus was made a Companion of the Round Table and became one

of the foremost knights thereof.

And the Lady Ettard took Sir Engamore into favor again, and that summer

they were wedded and Sir Engamore became lord of Grantmesnle.

So endeth this story.

[Illustration]