_How Sir Launcelot came into the chapel perilous, and gat there of a
dead corpse a piece of the cloth and a sword._
Right so Sir Launcelot departed, and when he came unto the chapel
perilous he alight down, and tied his horse to a little gate. And as
soon as he was within the churchyard he saw on the front of the chapel
many fair rich shields turned up so down, and many of the shields Sir
Launcelot had seen knights bear beforehand. With that he saw by him
stand there a thirty great knights, more by a yard than any man that
ever he had seen, and all those grinned and gnashed at Sir Launcelot.
And when he saw their countenance he dread him sore, and so put his
shield afore him, and took his sword in his hand ready unto battle; and
they were all armed in black harness, ready with their shields and
their swords drawn. And when Sir Launcelot would have gone throughout
them, they scattered on every side of him, and gave him the way, and
therewith he waxed all bold and entered into the chapel, and then he
saw no light but a dim lamp burning, and then was he ware of a corpse
covered with a cloth of silk. Then Sir Launcelot stooped down and cut a
piece away of that cloth, and then it fared under him as the earth had
quaked a little; there withal he feared. And then he saw a fair sword
lie by the dead knight, and that he gat in his hand and hied him out of
the chapel. Anon as ever he was in the chapel-yard all the knights
spake to him with a grimly voice, and said, Knight, Sir Launcelot, lay
that sword from thee, or else thou shalt die. Whether I live or die,
said Sir Launcelot, will no great word get it again, therefore fight
for it and ye list. Then right so he passed throughout them, and beyond
the chapel-yard there met him a fair damsel, and said, Sir Launcelot,
leave that sword behind thee, or thou wilt die for it. I leave it not,
said Sir Launcelot, for no entreaties. No, said she, and thou didst
leave that sword queen Guenever should ye never see. Then were I a fool
and I would leave this sword, said Sir Launcelot. Now gentle knight,
said the damsel, I require thee to kiss me but once. Nay, said Sir
Launcelot, that God me forbid. Well sir, said she, and thou haddest
kissed me thy life days had been done, but now alas, she said, I have
lost all my labour, for I ordained this chapel for thy sake, and for
Sir Gawaine. And once I had Sir Gawaine within my power, and at that
time he fought with that knight that lieth there dead in yonder chapel,
Sir Gilbert, and at that time he smote off the left hand of Sir
Gilbert. And Sir Launcelot now I tell thee, I have loved thee this
seven year, but there may no woman have thy love but queen Guenever.
But since I may not rejoice thee to have thy body alive, I had kept no
more joy in this world but to have thy body dead. Then would I have
balmed it and preserved it, and so have kept it my life days, and daily
I should have kissed thee in despite of queen Guenever. Ye say well,
said Sir Launcelot, God preserve me from your subtil crafts. And
therewithal he took his horse and so departed from her. And as the book
saith, when Sir Launcelot was departed she took such sorrow that she
died within a fourteen night, and her name was Hellawes the sorceress,
lady of the castle Nigramous. Anon Sir Launcelot met with the damsel,
Sir Meliot’s sister. And when she saw him she clapped her hands and
wept for joy, and then they rode unto a castle thereby, where Sir
Meliot lay. And anon as Sir Launcelot saw him he knew him, but he was
pale as the earth for bleeding. When Sir Meliot saw Sir Launcelot, he
kneeled upon his knees and cried on high: O lord Sir Launcelot help me!
Anon Sir Launcelot leapt unto him, and touched his wounds with Sir
Gilbert’s sword, and then he wiped his wounds with a part of the bloody
cloth that Sir Gilbert was wrapped in, and anon a wholer man in his
life was he never. And then there was great joy between them, and they
made Sir Launcelot all the cheer that they might, and so on the morn
Sir Launcelot took his leave, and bad Sir Meliot hie him to the court
of my lord Arthur, for it draweth nigh to the feast of Pentecost, and
there, by the grace of God, ye shall find me. And therewith they
departed.