fitted to seek and find the Holy Grail? Are there any who hold greater
desire to find the same? And who seeks to make himself more worthy?"
"And yet, though you seek until Judgment Day you will never find it.
In the innermost soul of you, you know it to be so. The pity of it."
"Strange monk," and a dull red mantled the knight's cheeks, "those are
bold words you speak. None but Launcelot himself can tell the things
he may or may not do. And since I am not in search of father
confessor, nor since I sought not this meeting, I pray thee offer not
your counsel nor advice."
"The truth, then, sears, sir knight!" Now the monk's eyes flashed.
Straight and tall he stood and his lean figure held so much of that
which was not earthly, that even the mighty Launcelot was daunted.
"Who then has more right or reason to tell you of these things. It is
I who first picked you, long since, as likely finder of the Holy
Grail. And when I found you slipping ever so little, and well you know
wherein you have failed me, I sent Merlin to all of you. For since he
on whom I had built my faith could not measure to the test I had
strong need to find someone else.
"For Britain must hold the Grail. Somewhere in it, there must be the
man who measures up to the test, high though it be."
"Son, son, the things you could have done. The fineness of you,
coarsened by the temptations you have met and not overcome. The joy
you have found in things that are sordid and count for so little."
Low hung the knight's head, His anger had left him now. In its stead
was a deep humility.
"Father, you bare my soul. And yet have I striven. High did I hold
the ideals which first inspired me, I have overcome much, have tried
to keep to the high set purpose. Yet I am but common clay, after all."
"Nay, nay son. I would all men held half thy nobility. Only," and now
the monk's tone was again kindly, "there are some we weigh on much
finer scales than others. We ask more of them, seek more from them.
Forgive less, too. Perhaps we are wrong to desire so much from any
mortal soul. Yet have we faith,--we believe."
"I find no complaint, holy father, in the measure you have set for me.
For I saw the things, I had the vision to see them. Saw too, the
things that were wrong even as I did these things."
"Yet, my son, a great task shall be yours. Now of the boy Allan." The
monk paused.
"What of him, father? A fine lad is he. So young, yet is he too, to be
burdened with great responsibilities? I pray thee, let him keep his
youth."
"Launcelot, my son, when will you grow to thy true self? For there
lies your failure. You who took your responsibilities as burdens, when
you should have found great joy in that they were yours. Yet, now
listen to me as to this boy Allan. I have seen him this day, have
spoken to him of the Holy Grail. A dreaming youth, yet is he fired by
fine inspiration and great ideals. He is ordained to seek it. That
holds no strangeness for there are many such. As to whether he finds
it or not is dependent upon him, as it was once upon yourself. And
since you cannot find it, seek it as you will, I charge you with
helping him keep clean souled. Should he do so, ere many years will
pass, he may find it. For you, there will be the joy, the glory of
service, of having helped. Without your help, success for him will be
so much less likely. Will you help him Launcelot? Think well before
you make reply."
Not at once did Sir Launcelot answer. Yet it was the best within him
that did give final utterance.
"I promise you father, that such help as I can give the lad I shall.
Much have I learned. And with these things that I have learned he
shall be guided. No bitterness mine. Since I am not to be the finder
of the Holy Grail, I pledge you now my aid to Allan."
"Launcelot, so little fails you for that needed greatness. None have
I loved so much. If you have sinned you have been great and glorious
even in the sinning.
"Never have you been finer than now. Allan will need your help, your
strength. There shall be a maid too, to help him. The threads have
also been woven for that now. When the time shall come, you will call
this lad Galahad, the Chaste. Treat him ever as your son, Launcelot."
"Son and comrade, too, he shall be for me. Father, I thank you."
"So then I go, son. I could not love you more were you less a mortal
sinner."
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The Party Divides
When the morning came there was great indecision as to the further
way, for no new information had come of Sir Tristram. Sir Gawaine now
spoke for going north to Scotland. So too, was Sir Pellimore minded
and Sir Gilbert as well. But Sir Percival spoke for Wales and so did
Sir Neil.
"As for me," said Sir Dagonet, "I pick Wales, since Kinkenadon is the
nearer to Ireland. My fool's head still fancies that we shall have
need to turn there ere we shall find this errant knight."
Neither the King nor Sir Launcelot up to this time had expressed a
choice. But now the King vouchsafed a plan.
"It seems to us good plan for our party to divide. Some of us to go
north, some west. You Launcelot could well go with one party and we
with the other. What say you friends?"
That plan suited them all. So then the King went with Sir Gawaine, Sir
Pellimore, and Sir Gilbert, while Sir Launcelot accompanied Sir
Percival, Sir Neil, Sir Dagonet and Allan. With each party, too, went
three men-at-arms.
Our way shall be with Sir Percival.
At the end of the first half day they found themselves near the
crossroads of Nantwich.
"We must soon find place for food," remarked Sir Percival and lustily
they all agreed.
"See you castle beyond yonder crossroads?" questioned Sir Neil, "Sir
Manstor lives there with his three brothers. Right skillful knights
are these but woe the lone stranger who passes by. For these are
villainous four."
"Right bitterly do you speak of them, Neil," remarked Sir Launcelot.
"And why?"
"I pray fortune to permit me to meet with this Manstor. I stopped
there for food one day. Then did this knight, his brothers by his
side, demand the bag of gold I carried with me. Nor would single one
among them battle with me. It would have fared ill with me but for two
knights who passing by, came to my aid."
"Our vow," said Sir Launcelot thoughtfully, "is to find Sir Tristram.
Yet can I see no harm in straying from our way an hour or two, can
you, Percival?"
"Not if there is promise of such entertainment as this," was the
reply.
"These knights," interrupted Sir Neil, "have stomach for neither joust
nor other encounter when the odds are not with them. Nor will they
venture to impede our way unless we number less than they."
"If greater or equal number withholds them," said Sir Dagonet. "I
would favor them and withdraw. Then would there be one less doughty
sword."
"Aye, Dagonet, we know your unselfish spirit," said Sir Neil and
laughed.
"The knight does not live who has bested me, nevertheless," replied
the jester, with pretended heat.
"The knight does not live who has had the chance," said Sir Percival.
"Yet we love you none the less, brother."
Said now Sir Launcelot: "One of us could ride ahead. And, perchance,
these scheming knights will think that easy prey comes and so strive
to impede the way. Then when they bear down upon him we can appear and
give them such entertainment as they have not had in many a day."
Now one of the men-at-arms came forward.
"And if you will, masters, yonder cruel knight is cruel master as
well. And he holds my own brother within his prison walls for small
cause. So I pray you, masters, succor him."
"Of a surety, Wonkin," said Sir Percival, "we shall make every effort
to set your brother free. Neil and I shall go forward and so find
ourselves seemingly enmeshed by them. Then will you, at proper time,
Launcelot, come forward. And if Dagonet so wishes, he can protect our
rear."
The two knights then hurried on. They had not far to go to the turn of
the road and there the four knights within the castle grounds, seeing
them, stood watching for a moment or so. Then each mounted his horse
and in armor, rode forth from within the walls.
"We are knights on way to Wales," said Sir Percival in mild tone. "We
seek food for our midday meal."
"Food we will give you right gladly," replied the oldest of the four.
"But ask in payment such gold as you may have."
"That would be poor bargain," replied Sir Percival, still mild spoken.
"We had liefer go our way to place which seeks not such high pay."
"That may you well do, strangers, yet must you still leave your gold
behind. For we have great need of it."
"Yet no greater need for it than have we. Come, comrade, we must be on
our way." So spoke Sir Percival to Sir Neil. And now the robber
knights were certain that these were but timid men. So out came their
swords as they rode at the two. But they found them ready and
watchful. And though the odds were two to one, it was not hard matter
to hold the robbers off until Sir Launcelot came charging into the
melee.
As the four robbers turned to the newcomer and beheld his shield and
armor, they knew that it was Launcelot. And knew too that this was
trap set for them. Thereupon did Sir Manstor withdraw for the moment
from the struggle and blow horn he carried--two long and one short
note.
One of the brothers had already been unhorsed and most grievously
wounded. Sir Manstor now came back to the aid of his brothers and of
them all he was most skillful. So Sir Launcelot turned to him and him,
the robber knight found more than a match.
But from within the walls came forty and more men at arms, some with
bow and arrow and others with club and mace. And with them, two other
knights.
When Sir Launcelot saw these, he called to his comrades. "Hard at
them, hard."
For he had in mind to down these three before the others came.
Then did the three, that is, Launcelot, Percival and Neil with
wondrous strength of arm, each by mighty blow, bring rider to the
ground. And Sir Manstor was dead because of the fearful blow of Sir
Launcelot. The other two were asprawl on the ground and but barely
moving.
"I call this right skillfully done," said Sir Dagonet who now came
toward them. He had watched but had not joined in the struggle.
Now, Wonkin and the two men at arms were there and so was Allan.
"Will you, good men, try out your bows on these hinds who are coming
thitherward?" said Sir Percival.
Straightway then there flew three well aimed arrows. Then others flew
and now answering arrows from the oncomers. But these did not harm
for Wonkin and the other two stood under cover of trees and so were
not easy targets.
Twice more they let their arrows fly and five men of the forty had
been stopped.
Now as the others came at them with clubs and mace, Sir Launcelot
commanded Wonkin and the other two to withdraw a hundred pace and from
there continue to let their arrows fly. And this was great wisdom for
else the three could not have long withstood the large number.
So now the knights with their great lances fought off the villains and
the two knights who were with them. Very few who came within the reach
of the long weapons escaped. And from their place the three men at
arms shot arrow after arrow into the attackers.
Three of the knaves had hold of Sir Percival's horse and thereupon
others swarmed upon him and what with the blows of their maces and
clubs, he was in sorry plight. Nor could Sir Launcelot turn to help
him for he was in great conflict with the two knights and a large
number of them on foot and Sir Neil equally so. As for Allan he had
already ridden down two of the attackers and had brought his weapon
which was cross between sword and dagger down upon their skulls. Now
as he turned he saw the plight of his lord. So did Sir Dagonet, who
though timid had up to then made some ado to help. Whereupon both sped
hard to Sir Percival's aid. And so skillful was the boy that he hewed
down several of the knaves and Sir Dagonet too, soon found that others
of Sir Percival's attackers were turning their attention to him. All
of which gave needed time for Sir Percival to escape from his
difficulty, draw sword and begin anew.
Now Sir Launcelot brought down the two knights and the others like
wolves stood off snarling at him, yet out of reach. Sir Neil too was
freer.
There were but ten of the attackers now. The others were either strewn
about the ground or were making their escape. And of these ten, two
even then were brought down by the arrows of Wonkin and his two
comrades.
Whereupon the last of the attackers turned and made haste to fly, the
three archers in close pursuit.
"These hinds would fair have overswarmed me had not the boy and
Dagonet come to my aid," remarked Sir Percival as he lifted his helmet
from his head.
"How then, Allan, did you like the affray?" inquired Sir Launcelot.
"Greatly," replied the lad. "But I had wish I carried a lance instead
of this, which is neither dagger nor sword."
"Right soon, shall these be yours as well, lad. Yet now we have earned
such food as we may find within the castle. And I wot not," added Sir
Percival, "many prisoners, too, who will be glad of freedom."
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
King Mark's Foul Plan
Sir Neil and Sir Dagonet now loudly summoned the castle servants
before them but there were none to answer. So they prepared
kitchenward where they found the wretches in great affright not
knowing what dire fate was to befall them. Yet they, when assured that
naught was intended against them, eagerly hastened to obey the
commands of the good knights to prepare a sumptuous meal.
Sir Launcelot, Sir Percival and the other knights made, their way to
the dungeon. And truly they found a sad sight there. Though a large
place, yet was it overly crowded. In one place they found six knights,
an unhappy six, three of whom had been imprisoned for many months, two
had been made captives within the fortnight and one had joined this
joyless group but two days before.
"Aye," one of the first three explained to them, "it is through God's
mercy that we still live. There were three others with us, two of whom
were already here when this dire misfortune befell us and one who came
some weeks later. These three could not survive the foulness of this
hole."
But now Sir Percival was seen to speak to the lone knight, the one who
had been made prisoner last of all. A melancholy figure, he did not
seem to realize that release had come with the advent of these
knights. In fact, through all the hubbub he seemed to have been lost
within himself. No doubt, they were bitter thoughts that possessed him
and at such times one is verily unmindful of things about him. Nor did
this knight seem mindful of the words spoken by Sir Percival for he
made no answer and lost none of his brooding air.
Yet, of a sudden, he seemed to awaken. For Sir Percival who had not
been able to place him at first, had at last realized who the stranger
was.
"Who are you?" the other questioned in turn rubbing his eyes. "And
these other knights? But then, I know you all. How came you here, Sir
Percival?"
When he was told, some of his dejection left him.
"Mine was truly a great unhappiness. These four robber knights did
beset me. And when I was overcome they demanded great ransom which I
had no means wherewith to satisfy. Then, when I heard the tale of how
long these fellow prisoners had been here I was greatly discouraged as
to carrying out my intent to prove to King Arthur my worthiness for
knighthood."
In the meanwhile, Sir Launcelot and Allan had made their way to where
the imprisoned yeomen and hinds had been kept. Here there were more
than fifty and a sad sight they were. It brought a great gulp of pity
into Allan's throat and unbidden tears came to his eyes. Sir Launcelot
too was moved. Some of the prisoners were so weak they could hardly
move. Wonkin had found his brother almost at once and theirs was a
happy meeting.
"Go you up, good Allan, and order that food be brought for these
wretches. And see to it that there is plenty of it."
Allan gladly went and repeated Sir Launcelot's orders which the
servants made great haste to obey.
So that all within the castle, fared well that day. And when Sir
Launcelot and his party were ready to continue their journey the next
morning, there was with them Breunor le Noire and an added number of
yeomen picked from the men who had been prisoners.
Just before departure, Sir Percival went to the two brothers of Sir
Manstor who still were living, the other had not lived an hour.
"Sir Knights, we leave you now. Take you heed from this day's
happenings that such outlawry as yours brings just punishment.
Remember, too, that King Arthur and all his knights will be ever
watchful that you conduct yourself in knightly ways. Woe betide you,
if you do not."
The knights made no reply. Grievously wounded, with their brothers
dead, they were in no mood for words. Yet must the truth of Sir
Percival's words have been in their minds.
Onward now went Sir Launcelot's party. Through that and the next day
they made their way and were well in Cornwall without further untoward
happening. Everywhere, the party made inquiries as to the whereabouts
of Sir Tristram and from such news as they were able to gather they
felt assured that they had taken the right way and that King Arthur
and the men with him were on a false trail.
It was on this day that they met with two knights who made them
friendly greetings and finding out the purpose of their journey
pretended not to know the whereabouts of Sir Tristram. Nor would they
stay for any length of time giving as reason therefore great need of
urgency on their part. Yet when these two knights had but gone a
little way they turned, in great haste along another road. The end of
the day found them in the presence of King Mark of Cornwall who had no
great love for King Arthur nor for any of his knights and who would do
any or all of them great harm could he do so without discovery.
"Who then is this party?" inquired the King after listening.
"They number but few," replied one of the knights. "Sir Launcelot, Sir
Percival, Sir Neil, and one other, and that fool who is jester to
Arthur. A boy is there too and fifteen men-at-arms."
"You speak truly," replied the king, "as to their being few in number
but I would that two of these few, were not Launcelot and Percival.
Yet even with these two we should be able to overcome them. And in
that way I shall find some recompense for the many slights and haughty
overbearingness of Arthur and his men." As he so spoke, King Mark's
face plainly showed its cruelty and craft.
"Will you, good Bruyan, call Sir Bertram and Sir Pendore to me? And be
sure to return for we must be speedy should we decide that it is wise
for us to take any step for their discomforture."
Now as Bruyan returned with the two aforementioned, there also came
into the room a yeoman who served Sir Pendore. But of him neither the
king nor any of the knights took notice but instead immediately began
discussion as to the wisdom of waylaying these knights of King Arthur
who were now in Cornwall.
Whether King Mark knew this to be so or not, yet of all his court,
there were no two who had more reason to hate Sir Launcelot than Sir
Bertram and Sir Pendore. For Sir Launcelot had come upon them once
when they were in the midst of tormenting two holy men having first
taken from them a paltry purse which these two monks were carrying for
worthy purpose. Then when Sir Launcelot had asked that they desist and
return the holy men's purse they had replied with foul tongue and had
made for him. Soon, however, they found that this single knight was
master of them both and would they then have complied with his
requests. However, Sir Launcelot who was ever slow to anger was now in
great rage and he had taken them to the castle grounds of Sir Gawaine
and there, before a large number he told of what had happened. And
while fair ladies laughed at them and while men looked at them as they
would at hinds, Sir Launcelot had taken the flat of his sword and had
brought it down on both. Then he had asked two yeomen to club them
from the castle grounds since they were unfit to be in the company of
knights. This the yeomen had done right lustily.
Neither Sir Pendore nor Sir Bertram had ever made mention of this
event. But there was no one in all of Britain whom they so fully hated
as Sir Launcelot. Now, there seemed likely chance for revenge.
"How many men can you muster?" asked Sir Bertram, speaking not over
anxiously yet with meaning looked at Sir Pendore.
"Seven score or more" replied the king of Cornwall.
"I would have more," replied Sir Pendore. "What with Percival and
Launcelot and this Neil whom I know not, one must make it more than
certain."
It was at this point that the yeoman who was busily at work over the
weapons, cleaning them and putting them into perfect condition, as
none other in Cornwall could do, had become interested. Sir Percival?
It was this Sir Percival, knight of the Round Table, who had saved the
father of this yeoman from the deadly mace of one of his men in one of
many melees. It was but a small thing to the knight, long forgotten no
doubt, but to Walker, the son of the man who was saved, it meant that
he was in debt to this knight. So now he listened, interested. Then
too, he had no great love for his master who was never kindly and he
had decided long ago that he would find a new master when the
opportunity offered.
"I shall find more men, if I can," Mark offered in reply to Sir
Pendore's suggestion. Nor did it seem strange to him that the knight
should think that odds of seven to one were not enough.
"Where are these knights?" asked Sir Bertram.
Sir Bruyan told him, the yeoman listening all the while.
"Let us then be off within thrice this hour," Mark concluded. "Get
you as many men ready as you can," he said to Sir Bertram and to Sir
Pendore who were his chiefs.
Walker, the yeoman, soon had completed his work. Thereupon he made his
way into the forest to find him, who was best friend of his, to get
advice as to what to do.
He, whom he sought, was none other than our old friend Gouvernail,
who, of course, was not far from Sir Tristram, his master.
Though he had long since severed fealty to King Mark, Sir Tristram had
returned near unto the court because of the love he bore one of the
damsels who was in it. It was Walker who had carried the messages
Gouvernail had brought from his master to this same lady.
Walker soon came to the hiding place of his friend.
"What ho?" asked Gouvernail. "What brings you here at this unseemly
hour?"
"I need your advice," replied Walker. "My poor head carries too great
a muddle."
"You come to one who can offer but poor solace there," replied
Gouvernail. "If it were trusty arm, good club or something belike, you
could well come to me. But speak, what troubles you?"
So Walker told him. Except that at first he made no mention of names.
"Keep you from it," advised Gouvernail. "It is the business of your
betters and not of your meddling."
"Yet had Sir Percival done this thing for my father, and if he would,
he could have thought the same,--that it was not his affair but an
affair of hind or yeoman."
"Is this Percival, he who is of King Arthur's court?" asked
Gouvernail.
"Aye," replied Walker, nodding his head. "Do you know him?"
"Somewhat. Who else is there?" he further questioned, now interested.
"Sir Launcelot, Sir Neil and some others."
"Did they speak of a boy being there?"
"I do not remember. Yet I seem to recall that they did," replied
Walker.
"I will help you. Come," and Gouvernail took his friend but a little
way to where Sir Tristram was lodging.
Sir Tristram seated himself and listened to the two. He understood at
once.
"When did King Mark say that he would start with his men?" he asked
Walker.
"In three hours, Sir Knight," the man answered.
"Good. Let us be off. Good Gouvernail, get you my mail ready for I
would don it."
Within the half hour Sir Tristram with the two yeomen were on their
way to meet Sir Percival and Sir Launcelot. So, strangely, they who
sought him, were to find him come among them.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The Weasel's Nest
"Greeting, good knights," he announced. "I am Sir Tristram."
Nothing could have thrown Sir Launcelot's party into greater
astonishment. And yet no news could have been pleasanter.
"Right glad are we to see you, Sir Tristram, since we have sought you
for a great number of days. I am Sir Launcelot. Here is Sir
Percival." And so this knight announced them all.