How Martimor Bled for a Lady and Lived for a Maid, and how His Great
Adventure Ended and Began at the Mill
Now leave we of the Mill and Martimor and the Maid, and let us speak
of a certain Lady, passing tall and fair and young. This was the Lady
Beauvivante, that was daughter to King Pellinore. And three false
knights took her by craft from her father’s court and led her away to
work their will on her. But she escaped from them as they slept by a
well, and came riding on a white palfrey, over hill and dale, as fast as
ever she could drive.
Thus she came to the Mill, and her palfrey was spent, and there she took
refuge, beseeching Martimor that he would hide her, and defend her from
those caitiff knights that must soon follow.
“Of hiding,” said he, “will I hear naught, but of defending am I full
fain. For this have I waited.”
Then he made ready his horse and his armour, and took both spear and
sword, and stood forth in the bridge. Now this bridge was strait,
so that none could pass there but singly, and that not till Martimor
yielded or was beaten down.
Then came the three knights that followed the Lady, riding fiercely down
the hill. And when they came about ten spear-lengths from the bridge,
they halted, and stood still as it had been a plump of wood. One rode in
black, and one rode in yellow, and the third rode in black and yellow.
So they cried Martimor that he should give them passage, for they
followed a quest.
“Passage takes, who passage makes!” cried Martimor. “Right well I know
your quest, and it is a foul one.”
Then the knight in black rode at him lightly, but Martimor encountered
him with the spear and smote him backward from his horse, that his head
struck the coping of the bridge and brake his neck. Then came the knight
in yellow, walloping heavily, and him the spear pierced through the
midst of the body and burst in three pieces: so he fell on his back and
the life went out of him, but the spear stuck fast and stood up from his
breast as a stake.
Then the knight in black and yellow, that was as big as both his
brethren, gave a terrible shout, and rode at Martimor like a wood
lion. But he fended with his shield that the spear went aside, and they
clapped together like thunder, and both horses were overthrown. And
lightly they avoided their horses and rushed together, tracing, rasing,
and foining. Such strokes they gave that great pieces were clipped away
from their hauberks, and their helms, and they staggered to and fro
like drunken men. Then they hurtled together like rams and each battered
other the wind out of his body. So they sat either on one side of the
bridge, to take their breath, glaring the one at the other as two owls.
Then they stepped together and fought freshly, smiting and thrusting,
ramping and reeling, panting, snorting, and scattering blood, for the
space of two hours. So the knight in black and yellow, because he was
heavier, drave Martimor backward step by step till he came to the crown
of the bridge, and there fell grovelling. At this the Lady Beauvivante
shrieked and wailed, but the damsel Lirette cried loudly, “Up! Martimor,
strike again!”
Then the courage came into his body, and with a great might he abraid
upon his feet, and smote the black and yellow knight upon the helm by an
overstroke so fierce that the sword sheared away the third part of his
head, as it had been a rotten cheese. So he lay upon the bridge, and the
blood ran out of him. And Martimor smote off the rest of his head quite,
and cast it into the river. Likewise did he with the other twain that
lay dead beyond the bridge. And he cried to Flumen, “Hide me these black
eggs that hatched evil thoughts.” So the river bore them away.
Then Martimor came into the Mill, all for-bled; “Now are ye free, lady,”
he cried, and fell down in a swoon. Then the Lady and the Maid wept full
sore and made great dole and unlaced his helm; and Lirette cherished him
tenderly to recover his life.
So while they were thus busied and distressed, came Sir Lancelot with a
great company of knights and squires riding for to rescue the princess.
When he came to the bridge all bedashed with blood, and the bodies of
the knights headless, “Now, by my lady’s name,” said he, “here has
been good fighting, and those three caitiffs are slain! By whose hand I
wonder?”
So he came into the Mill, and there he found Martimor recovered of his
swoon, and had marvellous joy of him, when he heard how he had wrought.
“Now are thou proven worthy of the noble order of knighthood,” said
Lancelot, and forthwith he dubbed him knight.
Then he said that Sir Martimor should ride with him to the court of King
Pellinore, to receive a castle and a fair lady to wife, for doubtless
the King would deny him nothing to reward the rescue of his daughter.
But Martimor stood in a muse; then said he, “May a knight have his free
will and choice of castles, where he will abide?”
“Within the law,” said Lancelot, “and by the King’s word he may.”
“Then choose I the Mill,” said Martimor, “for here will I dwell.”
“Freely spoken,” said Lancelot, laughing, “so art thou Sir Martimor of
the Mill; no doubt the King will confirm it. And now what sayest thou of
ladies?”
“May a knight have his free will and choice here also?” said he.
“According to his fortune,” said Lancelot, “and by the lady’s favour, he
may.”
“Well, then,” said Sir Martimor, taking Lirette by the hand, “this
Maid is to me liefer to have and to wield as my wife than any dame or
princess that is christened.”
“What, brother,” said Sir Lancelot, “is the wind in that quarter? And
will the Maid have thee?”
“I will well,” said Lirette.
“Now are you well provided,” said Sir Lancelot, “with knighthood, and a
castle, and a lady. Lacks but a motto and a name for the Blue Flower in
thy shield.”
“He that names it shall never find it,” said Sir Martimor, “and he that
finds it needs no name.”
So Lirette rejoiced Sir Martimor and loved together during their
life-days; and this is the end and the beginning of the Story of the
Mill.