When Sir Lancelot was come out of the Red Launds where he did many deeds
of arms, he rested him long with play and game in a land that is, called
Beausejour. For in that land there are neither castles nor enchantments,
but many fair manors, with orchards and fields lying about them; and the
people that dwell therein have good cheer continually.
Of the wars and of the strange quests that are ever afoot in Northgalis
and Lionesse and the Out Isles, they hear nothing; but are well content
to till the earth in summer when the world is green; and when the autumn
changes green to gold they pitch pavilions among the fruit-trees and the
vineyards, making merry with song and dance while they gather harvest of
corn and apples and grapes; and in the white days of winter for pastime
they have music of divers instruments and the playing of pleasant games.
But of the telling of tales in that land there is little skill, neither
do men rightly understand the singing of ballads and romaunts. For one
year there is like another, and so their life runs away, and they leave
the world to God.
Then Sir Lancelot had great ease for a time in this quiet land, and
often he lay under the apple-trees sleeping, and again he taught the
people new games and feats of skill. For into what place soever he
came he was welcome, though the inhabitants knew not his name and great
renown, nor the famous deeds that he had done in tournament and battle.
Yet for his own sake, because he was a very gentle knight, fair-spoken
and full of courtesy and a good man of his hands withal, they doted upon
him.
So he began to tell them tales of many things that have been done in
the world by clean knights and faithful squires. Of the wars against the
Saracens and misbelieving men; of the discomfiture of the Romans when
they came to take truage of King Arthur; of the strife with the eleven
kings and the battle that was ended but never finished; of the Questing
Beast and how King Pellinore and then Sir Palamides followed it; of
Balin that gave the dolourous stroke unto King Pellam; of Sir Tor that
sought the lady’s brachet and by the way overcame two knights and smote
off the head of the outrageous caitiff Abelleus,--of these and many like
matters of pith and moment, full of blood and honour, told Sir Lancelot,
and the people had marvel of his words.
Now, among them that listened to him gladly, was a youth of good blood
and breeding, very fair in the face and of great stature. His name was
Martimor. Strong of arm was he, and his neck was like a pillar. His legs
were as tough as beams of ash-wood, and in his heart was the hunger
of noble tatches and deeds. So when he heard of Sir Lancelot these
redoubtable histories he was taken with desire to assay his strength.
And he besought the knight that they might joust together.
But in the land of Beausejour there were no arms of war save such as Sir
Lancelot had brought with him. Wherefore they made shift to fashion a
harness out of kitchen gear, with a brazen platter for a breast-plate,
and the cover of the greatest of all kettles for a shield, and for a
helmet a round pot of iron, whereof the handle stuck down at Martimor’s
back like a tail. And for spear he got him a stout young fir-tree, the
point hardened in the fire, and Sir Lancelot lent to him the sword that
he had taken from the false knight that distressed all ladies.
Thus was Martimor accoutred for the jousting, and when he had climbed
upon his horse, there arose much laughter and mockage. Sir Lancelot
laughed a little, though he was ever a grave man, and said, “Now must we
call this knight, La Queue de Fer, by reason of the tail at his back.”
But Martimor was half merry and half wroth, and crying “‘Ware!” he
dressed his spear beneath his arm. Right so he rushed upon Sir Lancelot,
and so marvellously did his harness jangle and smite together as he
came, that the horse of Sir Lancelot was frighted and turned aside. Thus
the point of the fir-tree caught him upon the shoulder and came near to
unhorse him. Then Martimor drew rein and shouted: “Ha! ha! has Iron-Tail
done well?”
“Nobly hast thou done,” said Lancelot, laughing, the while he amended
his horse, “but let not the first stroke turn thy head, else will the
tail of thy helmet hang down afore thee and mar the second stroke!”
So he kept his horse in hand and guided him warily, making feint now on
this side and now on that, until he was aware that the youth grew hot
with the joy of fighting and sought to deal with him roughly and bigly.
Then he cast aside his spear and drew sword, and as Martimor walloped
toward him, he lightly swerved, and with one stroke cut in twain the
young fir-tree, so that not above an ell was left in the youth’s hand.
Then was the youth full of fire, and he also drew sword and made at Sir
Lancelot, lashing heavily as, he would hew down a tree. But the knight
guarded and warded without distress, until the other breathed hard and
was blind with sweat. Then Lancelot smote him with a mighty stroke upon
the head, but with the flat of his sword, so that Martimor’s breath went
clean out of him, and the blood gushed from his mouth, and he fell over
the croup of his horse as he were a man slain.
Then Sir Lancelot laughed no more, but grieved, for he weened that he
had harmed the youth, and he liked him passing well. So he ran to him
and held him in his arms fast and tended him. And when the breath came
again into his body, Lancelot was glad, and desired the youth that he
would pardon him of that unequal joust and of the stroke too heavy.
At this Martimor sat up and took him by the hand. “Pardon?” he cried.
“No talk of pardon between thee and me, my Lord Lancelot! Thou hast
given me such joy of my life as never I had before. It made me glad to
feel thy might. And now am I delibred and fully concluded that I also
will become a knight, and thou shalt instruct me how and in what land I
shall seek great adventure.”