_How Balin was delivered by Merlin, and saved a knight that would have
slain himself for love._
Then Merlin came thither and took up Balin, and gat him a good horse,
for his was dead, and bade him ride out of that country. I would have
my damsel, said Balin. Lo, said Merlin, where she lieth dead. And king
Pellam lay so many years sore wounded, and might never be whole, till
Galahad, the haut prince, healed him in the quest of the Sangreal; for
in that place was part of the blood of our Lord Jesus Christ, that
Joseph of Arimathea brought into this land, and there himself lay in
that rich bed. And that was the same spear that Longius smote our Lord
to the heart; and king Pellam was nigh of Joseph’s kin, and that was
the most worshipful man that lived in those days, and great pity it was
of his hurt, for that stroke turned to great dole, trouble, and grief.
Then departed Balin from Merlin, and said, In this world we meet never
no more. So he rode forth through the fair countries and cities, and
found the people dead, slain on every side. And all that were alive
cried, O Balin, thou hast caused great damage in these countries; for
the dolorous stroke thou gavest unto king Pellam three countries are
destroyed, and doubt not but the vengeance will fall on thee at the
last. When Balin was past those countries he was passing glad. So he
rode eight days or he met with adventure. And at the last he came into
a fair forest in a valley, and was ware of a tower, and there beside he
saw a great horse of war tied to a tree, and there beside sat a fair
knight on the ground and made great mourning; and he was a likely man
and a well made. Balin said, God save you, why be ye so heavy? tell me,
and I will amend it and I may to my power. Sir knight, said he again,
thou doest me great grief, for I was in merry thoughts, and now thou
puttest me to more pain. Balin went a little from him, and looked on
his horse; then heard Balin him say thus: Ah, fair lady, why have ye
broken my promise, for thou promisedst me to meet me here by noon, and
I may curse thee that ever ye gave me this sword, for with this sword I
slay myself,—and pulled it out; and therewith Balin start unto him,
and took him by the hand. Let go my hand, said the knight, or else I
shall slay thee. That shall not need, said Balin, for I shall promise
you my help to get you your lady, and ye will tell me where she is.
What is your name? said the knight. My name is Balin le Savage. Ah,
sir, I know you well enough; ye are the knight with the two swords, and
the man of most prowess of your hands living. What is your name? said
Balin. My name is Garnish of the Mount, a poor man’s son, but by my
prowess and hardiness a duke hath made me knight, and gave me lands;
his name is duke Hermel, and his daughter is she that I love, and she
me as I deemed. How far is she hence? said Balin. But six mile, said
the knight. Now ride we hence, said these two knights. So they rode
more than a pace till they came to a fair castle, well walled and
ditched. I will into the castle, said Balin, and look if she be there.
So he went in, and searched from chamber to chamber, and found her bed,
but she was not there; then Balin looked into a fair little garden, and
under a laurel tree he saw her lie upon a quilt of green samite, and a
knight with her, and under their heads grass and herbs. When Balin saw
her with the foulest knight that ever he saw, and she a fair lady, then
Balin went through all the chambers again, and told the knight how he
found her, as she had slept fast, and so brought him in the place where
she lay fast sleeping.