In the meantime, Aurelius, the rightful king, was hailed wit

KING ARTHUR

_and the Knights of the Round Table_

EDITED BY RUPERT S. HOLLAND

GROSSET & DUNLAP

_Publishers_ NEW YORK

_Copyright, 1919, by

George W. Jacobs & Company_

_Printed in the United States of America_

[Illustration: "This girdle, lords," said she, "is made for the most

part of mine own hair, which, while I was yet in the world, I loved full

well."]

INTRODUCTION

King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table! What magic is in the

words! How they carry us straight to the days of chivalry, to the

witchcraft of Merlin, to the wonderful deeds of Lancelot and Perceval

and Galahad, to the Quest for the Holy Grail, to all that "glorious

company, the flower of men," as Tennyson has called the king and his

companions! Down through the ages the stories have come to us, one of

the few great romances which, like the tales of Homer, are as fresh and

vivid to-day as when men first recited them in court and camp and

cottage. Other great kings and paladins are lost in the dim shadows of

long-past centuries, but Arthur still reigns in Camelot and his knights

still ride forth to seek the Grail.

"No little thing shall be

The gentle music of the bygone years,

Long past to us with all their hopes and fears."

So wrote the poet William Morris in _The Earthly Paradise_. And surely

it is no small debt of gratitude we owe the troubadours and chroniclers

and poets who through many centuries have sung of Arthur and his

champions, each adding to the song the gifts of his own imagination, so

building from simple folk-tales one of the most magnificent and moving

stories in all literature.

This debt perhaps we owe in greatest measure to three men; to Chrétien

de Troies, a Frenchman, who in the twelfth century put many of the old

Arthurian legends into verse; to Sir Thomas Malory, who first wrote out

most of the stories in English prose, and whose book, the _Morte

Darthur_, was printed by William Caxton, the first English printer, in

1485; and to Alfred, Lord Tennyson, who in his series of poems entitled

the _Idylls of the King_ retold the legends in new and beautiful guise

in the nineteenth century.

The history of Arthur is so shrouded in the mists of early England that

it is difficult to tell exactly who and what he was. There probably was

an actual Arthur, who lived in the island of Britain in the sixth

century, but probably he was not a king nor even a prince. It seems most

likely that he was a chieftain who led his countrymen to victory against

the invading English about the year 500. So proud were his countrymen of

his victories that they began to invent imaginary stories of his prowess

to add to the fame of their hero, just as among all peoples legends soon

spring up about the name of a great leader. As each man told the feats

of Arthur he contributed those details that appealed most to his own

fancy and each was apt to think of the hero as a man of his own time,

dressing and speaking and living as his own kings and princes did, with

the result that when we come to the twelfth century we find Geoffrey of

Monmouth, in his _History of the Kings of Britain_, describing Arthur

no longer as a half-barbarous Briton, wearing rude armor, his arms and

legs bare, but instead as a most Christian king, the flower of mediæval

chivalry, decked out in all the gorgeous trappings of a knight of the

Crusades.

As the story of Arthur grew it attracted to itself popular legends of

all kinds. Its roots were in Britain and the chief threads in its fabric

remained British-Celtic. The next most important threads were those that

were added by the Celtic chroniclers of Ireland. Then stories that were

not Celtic at all were woven into the legend, some from Germanic

sources, which the Saxons or the descendants of the Franks may have

contributed, and others that came from the Orient, which may have been

brought back from the East by men returning from the Crusades. And if it

was the Celts who gave us the most of the material for the stories of

Arthur it was the French poets who first wrote out the stories and gave

them enduring form.

It was the Frenchman, Chrétien de Troies, who lived at the courts of

Champagne and of Flanders, who put the old legends into verse for the

pleasure of the noble lords and ladies that were his patrons. He

composed six Arthurian poems. The first, which was written about 1160 or

earlier, related the story of Tristram. The next was called _Érec et

Énide_, and told some of the adventures that were later used by Tennyson

in his _Geraint and Enid_. The third was _Cligès_, a poem that has

little to do with the stories of Arthur and his knights as we have

them. Next came the _Conte de la Charrette_, or _Le Chevalier de la

Charrette_, which set forth the love of Lancelot and Guinevere. Then

followed _Yvain_, or _Le Chevalier au Lion_, and finally came

_Perceval_, or _Le Conte du Graal_, which gives the first account of the

Holy Grail.

None of these stories are to be found in the work of Geoffrey of

Monmouth, who had written earlier in Latin, nor in any of the so-called

chronicles. It was Chrétien who took the old folk-tales that men had

been telling each other for centuries and put them into sprightly verse

for the entertainment of his lords and ladies. He fashioned the stories

according to the taste of his own gay courts, and so Arthur and his

Queen Guinevere, Lancelot, Perceval and the other knights became far

more like French people of the twelfth century than like Britons of the

sixth. And in introducing the Holy Grail, that sacred and mystic cup

that was supposed to hold drops of the blood of Christ and to have been

carried to England by Joseph of Arimathea, Chrétien added to the

Arthurian legends an old religious story that had had nothing to do with

Arthur originally.

From this point in its history that sturdy ancient English oak, the

original story of Arthur and his knights, an account mainly of warlike

adventures, sent forth four new branches that have now become part and

parcel of the parent legend. These four branches are the story of

Merlin, the story of Lancelot, the story of the Holy Grail, and the

story of Tristram and Iseult. Some of the writers who came after

Chrétien took one of these stories, some another, each enlarging his

theme according to his own taste, until each story was the center of a

large number of new and romantic offshoots. Practically all of them,

however, were bound together by the thread that led from the court of

the great King Arthur at Camelot.

The story of Merlin, that man of magic, is the least important of the

four branches, though Merlin is still an intensely interesting figure in

the story of Arthur that we read to-day. The story of Lancelot was to

prove very important; starting as a romance that had very little

connection with Arthur, it became with Malory and Tennyson the real

center of interest of the plot. The story of the Holy Grail proved

almost equally important. In the earliest accounts of this Perceval was

the knight chosen above all others to reach the Grail Castle, but

Perceval was too rough and worldly a knight to suit the taste of the

monks who wrote out the legends and so they created Galahad to take his

place as their own ideal of perfection. And into these adventures are

woven some of the tales of Sir Gawain, among them the delightful story

of Gawain and the Little Maid with the Narrow Sleeves. To the legend of

Perceval, Wolfram von Eschenbach, a Bavarian, added the story of the son

of Perceval, or Parzival, as he calls him, the story of Lohengrin, the

famous Swan-knight. Tristram and Iseult, the fourth of the branches,

though less connected with Arthur than either Lancelot or the Holy

Grail, became immensely popular with poets and remancers because of its

great love story, and is to be found told again and again in widely

varying forms all through the Middle Ages.

So we have seen that a British chieftain, winning a great battle in the

year 500, became in time celebrated throughout Europe as the greatest

king of romance. So far it was mainly the French who had made him

famous. Layamon, an English priest, had written a poem in English

concerning Arthur shortly after 1200, and told of the founding of the

Round Table, but it was to be a considerable time yet before any English

writer was to attempt what the French had already done. Chaucer told

none of the Arthurian stories, though he placed the scene of his _Wife

of Bath's Tale_ at King Arthur's court. An unknown English poet wrote

_Sir Gawaine and the Green Knight_ somewhere between 1350 and 1375. It

is not until we come to the _Morte Darthur_ of Sir Thomas Malory,

finished in 1469 or 1470, that we reach the next great step in the

history of the legends since the time of Chrétien de Troies. But in

Malory's story Arthur steps forth resplendent, the kingly figure that we

have to-day.

Little is known concerning Sir Thomas Malory. He seems to have been a

knight and country gentleman of Warwickshire, a member of Parliament in

the reign of Henry VI, and later a soldier on the side of Lancaster in

the Wars of the Roses. As a result of the victory of the party of York

he had to retire from public life when Edward IV came to the throne, and

lived quietly at his Warwickshire estate. He was familiar with life at

court and with men-at-arms and he knew how popular the stories of King

Arthur were becoming in England. So, being a man of education, he set to

work to make a collection of the legends, using as his chief sources the

French romances.

Malory showed considerable originality in carrying out his plan. He made

Arthur the central figure, taking the story of Merlin as an introduction

to the birth of Arthur, instead of as a separate legend, and ending his

account soon after the death of the king. He omitted a number of the

older legends that had little to do with Arthur, many of them good

stories, such as that of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight. He made the

England of his Arthur something like the England he knew, and his people

became real and living instead of fanciful figures out of a far-distant

past. His descriptions are vivid and lively and his style so engaging

that his work of the fifteenth century is much read to-day. Three

characters stand out from all the rest, Arthur, Lancelot, and Guinevere,

and these three became in all stories and poems subsequent to Malory's

time the main figures of the legends.

Matthew Arnold attributed to Homer three great epic traits, swiftness,

simplicity, and nobility. It is these three characteristics that have

made the _Morte Darthur_ so deservedly famous.

With the printing of Malory's book by the first English printer, William

Caxton, in 1485, we come to the end of the Middle Ages in literature.

Manuscripts written out laboriously by monks and clerks were now to

give way to the printed page. The age of Elizabeth was less than a

century away, one of the golden ages of the poets. Yet few of the

Elizabethans touched on the story of Arthur. The main exception was

Edmund Spenser, who made Prince Arthur the hero of his great poem _The

Faerie Queene_, but Spenser's Arthur and his knights and ladies have

little in common with the figures in the old romances.

The succeeding centuries, great as they were in English writers of

genius, paid little attention to Arthur. Milton and Dryden made little

use of the legends. Stories of ancient chivalry lost their vogue, novels

were becoming popular and the poets chose themes closer to their own

times and point of view. Not until the nineteenth century did Arthur

come into his own again. Then the Victorian poets turned to him for

inspiration. William Morris wrote _The Defence of Guenevere_, and a host

of lesser poets tried their hands on similar themes. Swinburne told the

story of _Tristram of Lyonesse_ and the _Tale of Balen_, and James

Russell Lowell composed his beautiful poem _The Vision of Sir Launfal_.

Matthew Arnold wrote _Tristram and Iseult_. In 1850 Richard Wagner, the

great German composer, produced his opera _Lohengrin_, and followed it

with _Tristan und Isolde_ and _Parsifal_. These tell the old stories in

somewhat new form, and follow the early French romances rather than

Malory.

But the true descendant of Chrétien de Troies and Malory was Alfred

Tennyson. The great work of this poet's life was his _Idylls of the

King_, one of the finest achievements of English literature. He owed his

inspiration chiefly to Malory. "The vision of Arthur as I have drawn

him," Tennyson said to his son, "had come upon me when, little more than

a boy, I first lighted upon Malory." He covered almost the entire field

of the legends. The _Idylls of the King_ are _The Coming of Arthur_,

_Geraint and Enid_, _Merlin and Vivien_, _Lancelot and Elaine_, _The

Holy Grail_, _Pelleas and Ettarre_, _Balin and Balan_, _The Last

Tournament_, _Guinevere_, and _The Passing of Arthur_.

Tennyson gives to the stories far more allegory, far more philosophy

than the early poets gave them. His age was interested in philosophy and

so, as was the case with each of the earlier poets, Tennyson handled the

legends after the fashion of his own times. In his pages we see the

characters as actual men and women, subtly drawn, concerned with right

and wrong far more than with mere knightly adventures. Arthur and

Lancelot and Guinevere hold the center of the stage, and it is the fate

of these three that provides the great moving motive of the poems.

To Tennyson we owe the most nearly perfect version of the story that

dates back to a dim and legendary England. What verse more beautiful

than his to tell of chivalry?

"Then, in the boyhood of the year,

Sir Lancelot and Queen Guinevere

Rode thro' the coverts of the deer,

With blissful treble ringing clear.

She seem'd a part of joyous Spring:

A gown of grass-green silk she wore,

Buckled with golden clasps before;

A light-green tuft of plumes she bore

Closed in a golden ring."

In beauty and dignity and human interest Tennyson gives us the great

world of Arthurian legend in its most perfect form.

Malory's _Morte Darthur_ was not Tennyson's only source for the stories

of his Idylls. The adventures of Geraint he took from the _Mabinogion_,

a collection of mediæval Welsh tales translated with great charm and

accuracy by Lady Charlotte Guest, and published in 1838. Also, though to

a very limited extent, he drew some of his incidents from the history of

Geoffrey of Monmouth and the other early writers of chronicles.

The great panorama of stories that we group together under the title of

_King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table_, when they are told in

prose, are usually taken from Malory's book, the _Morte Darthur_,

condensed in size, for Malory was frequently verbose, and related in

more modern English. In this volume we have used as a basis the version

prepared by Sir James Knowles, which is an abridgment of Malory's work

as it was printed by Caxton, with a few additions from Geoffrey of

Monmouth and other sources. To this we have added the story of Sir

Gawain and the Maid with the Narrow Sleeves, which comes originally from

the poem of _Perceval_ by Chrétien de Troies.

The stories seem naturally to group themselves into four divisions, The

Coming of Arthur and the Founding of the Round Table, The Adventures of

the Champions of the Round Table, Sir Galahad and the Quest of the Holy

Grail, and The Passing of Arthur. Into these come all the great

characters of the legends and all the surpassing adventures of the king

and his knights.

The story of how a half-barbarous British Chieftain became the greatest

king of mediæval chivalry is a romance in itself. To him poets and

chroniclers of all lands added one valorous knight after another, one

amazing adventure on top of another, until the result was the greatest

collection of legends that have gathered about any king in history. The

story of the origin and growth of these world-famous legends is told in

a most delightful book, _The Arthur of the English Poets_, by Howard

Maynadier, and those who wish to get the historical background of King

Arthur should turn to its pages.

Those who love brave and knightly deeds, those who love the gorgeous

trappings of mediæval romance, come to the story of Arthur and his Round

Table, of Lancelot and Perceval and Galahad and Gawain, of Guinevere and

Elaine, and of the Quest for the Holy Grail, and there shall be found

the glories that you seek. The king and his knights ride out from

Camelot. Here shall you join them on their great adventures!

RUPERT S. HOLLAND.

CONTENTS

INTRODUCTION

THE COMING OF ARTHUR AND THE FOUNDING OF THE ROUND TABLE

I MERLIN FORETELLS THE BIRTH OF ARTHUR

II THE CROWNING OF ARTHUR AND THE SWORD EXCALIBUR

III ARTHUR DRIVES THE SAXONS FROM HIS REALM

IV THE KING'S MANY AND GREAT ADVENTURES

V SIR BALIN FIGHTS WITH HIS BROTHER, SIR BALAN

VI THE MARRIAGE OF ARTHUR AND GUINEVERE AND THE FOUNDING OF THE ROUND

TABLE

VII THE ADVENTURE OF ARTHUR AND SIR ACCOLON OF GAUL

VIII ARTHUR IS CROWNED EMPEROR AT ROME

IX SIR GAWAIN AND THE MAID WITH THE NARROW SLEEVES

THE CHAMPIONS OF THE ROUND TABLE

X THE ADVENTURES OF SIR LANCELOT

XI THE ADVENTURES OF SIR BEAUMAINS OR SIR GARETH

XII THE ADVENTURES OF SIR TRISTRAM

SIR GALAHAD AND THE QUEST OF THE HOLY GRAIL

XIII THE KNIGHTS GO TO SEEK THE GRAIL

THE PASSING OF ARTHUR

XIV SIR LANCELOT AND THE FAIR ELAINE

XV THE WAR BETWEEN ARTHUR AND LANCELOT AND THE PASSING OF ARTHUR

KING ARTHUR AND THE KNIGHTS OF THE ROUND TABLE

THE COMING OF ARTHUR AND THE FOUNDING OF THE ROUND TABLE

I

MERLIN FORETELLS THE BIRTH OF ARTHUR

King Vortigern the usurper sat upon his throne in London, when,

suddenly, upon a certain day, ran in a breathless messenger, and cried

aloud--

"Arise, Lord King, for the enemy is come; even Ambrosius and Uther, upon

whose throne thou sittest--and full twenty thousand with them--and they

have sworn by a great oath, Lord, to slay thee, ere this year be done;

and even now they march towards thee as the north wind of winter for

bitterness and haste."

At those words Vortigern's face grew white as ashes, and, rising in

confusion and disorder, he sent for all the best artificers and

craftsmen and mechanics, and commanded them vehemently to go and build

him straightway in the furthest west of his lands a great and strong

castle, where he might fly for refuge and escape the vengeance of his

master's sons--"and, moreover," cried he, "let the work be done within a

hundred days from now, or I will surely spare no life amongst you all."

Then all the host of craftsmen, fearing for their lives, found out a

proper site whereon to build the tower, and eagerly began to lay in the

foundations. But no sooner were the walls raised up above the ground

than all their work was overwhelmed and broken down by night invisibly,

no man perceiving how, or by whom, or what. And the same thing happening

again, and yet again, all the workmen, full of terror, sought out the

king, and threw themselves upon their faces before him, beseeching him

to interfere and help them or to deliver them from their dreadful work.

Filled with mixed rage and fear, the king called for the astrologers and

wizards, and took counsel with them what these things might be, and how

to overcome them. The wizards worked their spells and incantations, and

in the end declared that nothing but the blood of a youth born without

mortal father, smeared on the foundations of the castle, could avail to

make it stand. Messengers were therefore sent forthwith through all the

land to find, if it were possible, such a child. And, as some of them

went down a certain village street, they saw a band of lads fighting and

quarreling, and heard them shout at one--"Avaunt, thou imp!--avaunt! Son

of no mortal man! go, find thy father, and leave us in peace."

At that the messengers looked steadfastly on the lad, and asked who he

was. One said his name was Merlin; another, that his birth and parentage

were known by no man; a third, that the foul fiend alone was his father.

Hearing the things, the officers seized Merlin, and carried him before

the king by force.

But no sooner was he brought to him than he asked in a loud voice, for

what cause he was thus dragged there?

"My magicians," answered Vortigern, "told me to seek out a man that had

no human father, and to sprinkle my castle with his blood, that it may

stand."

"Order those magicians," said Merlin, "to come before me, and I will

convict them of a lie."

The king was astonished at his words, but commanded the magicians to

come and sit down before Merlin, who cried to them--

"Because ye know not what it is that hinders the foundation of the

castle, ye have advised my blood for a cement to it, as if that would

avail; but tell me now rather what there is below that ground, for

something there is surely underneath that will not suffer the tower to

stand?"

The wizards at these words began to fear, and made no answer. Then said

Merlin to the king--

"I pray, Lord, that workmen may be ordered to dig deep down into the

ground till they shall come to a great pool of water."

This then was done, and the pool discovered far beneath the surface of

the ground.

Then, turning again to the magicians, Merlin said, "Tell me now, false

sycophants, what there is underneath that pool?"--but they were silent.

Then said he to the king, "Command this pool to be drained, and at the

bottom shall be found two dragons, great and huge, which now are

sleeping, but which at night awake and fight and tear each other. At

their great struggle all the ground shakes and trembles, and so casts

down thy towers, which, therefore, never yet could find secure

foundations."

The king was amazed at these words, but commanded the pool to be

forthwith drained; and surely at the bottom of it did they presently

discover the two dragons, fast asleep, as Merlin had declared.

But Vortigern sat upon the brink of the pool till night to see what else

would happen.

Then those two dragons, one of which was white, the other red, rose up

and came near one another, and began a sore fight, and cast forth fire

with their breath. But the white dragon had the advantage, and chased

the other to the end of the lake. And he, for grief at his flight,

turned back upon his foe, and renewed the combat, and forced him to

retire in turn. But in the end the red dragon was worsted, and the white

dragon disappeared no man knew where.

When their battle was done, the king desired Merlin to tell him what it

meant. Whereat he, bursting into tears, cried out this prophecy, which

first foretold the coming of King Arthur.

"Woe to the red dragon, which figureth the British nation, for his

banishment cometh quickly; his lurking-holes shall be seized by the

white dragon--the Saxon whom thou, O king, hast called to the land. The

mountains shall be leveled as the valleys, and the rivers of the valleys

shall run blood; cities shall be burned, and churches laid in ruins;

till at length the oppressed shall turn for a season and prevail against

the strangers. For a Boar of Cornwall shall arise and rend them, and

trample their necks beneath his feet. The island shall be subject to his

power, and he shall take the forests of Gaul. The house of Romulus shall

dread him--all the world shall fear him--and his end shall no man know;

he shall be immortal in the mouths of the people, and his works shall be

food to those that tell them.

"But as for thee, O Vortigern, flee thou the sons of Constantine, for

they shall burn thee in thy tower. For thine own ruin wast thou traitor

to their father, and didst bring the Saxon heathens to the land.

Aurelius and Uther are even now upon thee to revenge their father's

murder; and the brood of the white dragon shall waste thy country, and

shall lick thy blood. Find out some refuge, if thou wilt! but who may

escape the doom of God?"

The king heard all this, trembling greatly; and, convicted of his sins,

said nothing in reply. Only he hasted the builders of his tower by day

and night, and rested not till he had fled thereto.

In the meantime, Aurelius, the rightful king, was hailed with joy by the

Britons, who flocked to his standard, and prayed to be led against the

Saxons. But he, till he had first killed Vortigern, would begin no other

war. He marched therefore to Cambria, and came before the tower which

the usurper had built. Then, crying out to all his knights, "Avenge ye

on him who hath ruined Britain and slain my father and your king!" he

rushed with many thousands at the castle walls. But, being driven back

again and yet again, at length he thought of fire, and ordered blazing

brands to be cast into the building from all sides. These, finding soon

a proper fuel, ceased not to rage till, spreading to a mighty

conflagration, they burned down the tower, and Vortigern within it.

Then did Aurelius turn his strength against Hengist and the Saxons, and,

defeating them in many places, weakened their power for a long season,

so that the land had peace.

Anon the king, making journeys to and fro, restoring ruined churches

and, creating order, came to the monastery near Salisbury, where all

those British knights lay buried who had been slain there by the

treachery of Hengist. For when in former times Hengist had made a solemn

truce with Vortigern, to meet in peace and settle terms, whereby himself

and all his Saxons should depart from Britain, the Saxon soldiers

carried every one of them beneath his garment a long dagger, and, at a

given signal, fell upon the Britons, and slew them, to the number of

nearly five hundred.

The sight of the place where the dead lay moved Aurelius to great

sorrow, and he cast about in his mind how to make a worthy tomb over so

many noble martyrs, who had died there for their country.

When he had in vain consulted many craftsmen and builders, he sent, by

the advice of the archbishop, for Merlin, and asked him what to do. "If

you would honor the burying-place of these men," said Merlin, "with an

everlasting monument, send for the Giants' Dance which is in Killaraus,

a mountain; in Ireland; for there is a structure of stone there which

none of this age could raise without a perfect knowledge of the arts.

They are stones of a vast size and wondrous nature, and if they can be

placed here as they are there, round this spot of ground, they will

stand for ever."

At these words of Merlin, Aurelius burst into laughter, and said, "How

is it possible to remove such vast stones from so great a distance, as

if Britain, also, had no stones fit for the work?"

"I pray the king," said Merlin, "to forbear vain laughter; what I have

said is true, for those stones are mystical and have healing virtues.

The giants of old brought them from the furthest coast of Africa, and

placed them in Ireland while they lived in that country: and their

design was to make baths in them, for use in time of grievous illness.

For if they washed the stones and put the sick into the water, it

certainly healed them, as also it did them that were wounded in battle;

and there is no stone among them but hath the same virtue still."

When the Britons heard this, they resolved to send for the stones, and

to make war upon the people of Ireland if they offered to withhold them.

So, when they had chosen Uther the king's brother for their chief, they

set sail, to the number of 15,000 men, and came to Ireland. There

Gillomanius, the king, withstood them fiercely, and not till after a

great battle could they approach the Giants' Dance, the sight of which

filled them with joy and admiration. But when they sought to move the

stones, the strength of all the army was in vain, until Merlin,

laughing at their failures, contrived machines of wondrous cunning,

which took them down with ease, and placed them in the ships.

When they had brought the whole to Salisbury, Aurelius, with the crown

upon his head, kept for four days the feast of Pentecost with royal

pomp; and in the midst of all the clergy and the people, Merlin raised

up the stones, and set them round the sepulcher of the knights and

barons, as they stood in the mountains of Ireland.

Then was the monument called "Stonehenge," and stands, as all men know,

upon the plain of Salisbury to this very day.

Soon thereafter it befell that Aurelius was slain by poison at

Winchester, and was himself buried within the Giants' Dance.

At the same time came forth a comet of amazing size and brightness,

darting out a beam, at the end whereof was a cloud of fire shaped like a

dragon, from whose mouth went out two rays, one stretching over Gaul,

the other ending in seven lesser rays over the Irish sea.

At the appearance of this star a great dread fell upon the people, and

Uther, marching into Cambria against the son of Vortigern, himself was

very troubled to learn what it might mean. Then Merlin, being called

before him, cried with a loud voice: "O mighty loss! O stricken Britain!

Alas! the great prince is gone from us. Aurelius Ambrosius is dead,

whose death will be ours also, unless God help us. Haste, therefore,

noble Uther, to destroy the enemy; the victory shall be thine, and thou

shalt be king of all Britain. For the star with the fiery dragon

signifies thyself; and the ray over Gaul portends that thou shalt have a

son, most mighty, whom all those kingdoms shall obey which the ray

covers."

Thus, for the second time, did Merlin foretell the coming of King

Arthur. And Uther, when he was made king, remembered Merlin's words, and

caused two dragons to be made in gold, in likeness of the dragon he had

seen in the star. One of these he gave to Winchester Cathedral, and had

the other carried into all his wars before him, whence he was ever after

called Uther Pendragon, or the dragon's head.

Now, when Uther Pendragon had passed through all the land, and settled

it--and even voyaged into all the countries of the Scots, and tamed the

fierceness of that rebel people--he came to London, and ministered

justice there. And it befell at a certain great banquet and high feast

which the king made at Easter-tide, there came, with many other earls

and barons, Gorloïs, Duke of Cornwall, and his wife Igerna, who was the

most famous beauty in all Britain. And soon thereafter, Gorloïs being

slain in battle, Uther determined to make Igerna his own wife. But in

order to do this, and enable him to come to her--for she was shut up in

the high castle of Tintagil, on the furthest coast of Cornwall--the king

sent for Merlin, to take counsel with him and to pray his help. This,

therefore, Merlin promised him on one condition--namely, that the king

should give him up the first son born of the marriage. For Merlin by

his art foreknew that this firstborn should be the long-wished prince,

King Arthur.

When Uther, therefore, was at length happily wedded, Merlin came to the

castle on a certain day, and said, "Sir, thou must now provide thee for

the nourishing of thy child."

And the king, nothing doubting, said, "Be it as thou wilt."

"I know a lord of thine in this land," said Merlin, "who is a man both

true and faithful; let him have the nourishing of the child. His name is

Sir Ector, and he hath fair possessions both in England and in Wales.

When, therefore, the child is born, let him be delivered unto me,

unchristened, at yonder postern-gate, and I will bestow him in the care

of this good knight."

So when the child was born, the king bid two knights and two ladies to

take it, bound in rich cloth of gold, and deliver it to a poor man whom

they should discover at the postern-gate. And the child being delivered

thus to Merlin, who himself took the guise of a poor man, was carried by

him to a holy priest and christened by the name of Arthur, and then was

taken to Sir Ector's house, and nourished at Sir Ector's wife's own

breasts. And in the same house he remained privily for many years, no

man soever knowing where he was, save Merlin and the king.

Anon it befell that the king was seized by a lingering distemper, and

the Saxon heathens, taking their occasion, came back from over sea, and

swarmed upon the land, wasting it with fire and sword. When Uther heard

thereof, he fell into a greater rage than his weakness could bear, and

commanded all his nobles to come before him, that he might upbraid them

for their cowardice. And when he had sharply and hotly rebuked them, he

swore that he himself, nigh unto death although he lay, would lead them

forth against the enemy. Then causing a horse-litter to be made, in

which he might be carried--for he was too faint and weak to ride--he

went up with all his army swiftly against the Saxons.

But they, when they heard that Uther was coming in a litter, disdained

to fight him, saying it would be shame for brave men to fight with one

half dead. So they retired into their city; and, as it were in scorn of

danger, left the gates wide open. But Uther straightway commanding his

men to assault the town, they did so without loss of time, and had

already reached the gates, when the Saxons, repenting too late of their

haughty pride, rushed forth to the defense. The battle raged till night,

and was begun again next day; but at last, their leaders, Octa and Eosa,

being slain, the Saxons turned their backs and fled, leaving the Britons

a full triumph.

The king at this felt so great joy, that, whereas before he could scarce

raise himself without help, he now sat upright in his litter by himself,

and said, with a laughing and merry face, "They called me the half-dead

king, and so indeed I was; but victory to me half dead is better than

defeat and the best health. For to die with honor is far better than to

live disgraced."

But the Saxons, although thus defeated, were ready still for war. Uther

would have pursued them; but his illness had by now so grown, that his

knights and barons kept him from the adventure. Whereat the enemy took

courage, and left nothing undone to destroy the land; until, descending

to the vilest treachery, they resolved to kill the king by poison.

To this end, as he lay sick at Verulum, they sent and poisoned

stealthily a spring of clear water, whence he was wont to drink daily;

and so, on the very next day, he was taken with the pains of death, as

were also a hundred others after him, before the villainy was

discovered, and heaps of earth thrown over the well.

The knights and barons, full of sorrow, now took counsel together, and

came to Merlin for his help to learn the king's will before he died, for

he was by this time speechless. "Sirs, there is no remedy," said Merlin,

"and God's will must be done; but be ye all to-morrow before him, for

God will make him speak before he die."

So on the morrow all the barons, with Merlin, stood round the bedside of

the king; and Merlin said aloud to Uther, "Lord, shall thy son Arthur be

the king of all this realm after thy days?"

Then Uther Pendragon turned him about, and said, in the hearing of them

all, "God's blessing and mine be upon him. I bid him pray for my soul,

and also that he claim my crown, or forfeit all my blessing;" and with

those words he died.

Then came together all the bishops and the clergy, and great multitudes

of people, and bewailed the king; and carrying his body to the convent

of Ambrius, they buried it close by his brother's grave, within the

"Giants' Dance."

II

THE CROWNING OF ARTHUR AND THE SWORD EXCALIBUR

Now Arthur the prince had all this time been nourished in Sir Ector's

house as his own son, and was fair and tall and comely, being of the age

of fifteen years, great in strength, gentle in manner, and accomplished

in all exercises proper for the training of a knight.

But as yet he knew not of his father; for Merlin had so dealt, that none

save Uther and himself knew aught about him. Wherefore it befell that

many of the knights and barons who heard King Uther speak before his

death, and call his son Arthur his successor, were in great amazement;

and some doubted, and others were displeased.

Anon the chief lords and princes set forth each to his own land, and,

raising armed men and multitudes of followers, determined every one to

gain the crown for himself; for they said in their hearts, "If there be

any such a son at all as he of whom this wizard forced the king to

speak, who are we that a beardless boy should have rule over us?"

So the land stood long in great peril, for every lord and baron sought

but his own advantage; and the Saxons, growing ever more adventurous,

wasted and overran the towns and villages in every part.

Then Merlin went to Brice, the Archbishop of Canterbury, and advised him

to require all the earls and barons of the realm and all knights and

gentlemen-at-arms to come to him at London, before Christmas, under pain

of cursing, that they might learn the will of Heaven who should be king.

This, therefore, the archbishop did, and upon Christmas Eve were met

together in London all the greatest princes, lords, and barons; and long

before day they prayed in St. Paul's Church, and the archbishop besought

Heaven for a sign who should be lawful king of all the realm.

And as they prayed, there was seen in the churchyard, set straight

before the doorways of the church, a huge square stone having a naked

sword stuck in the midst of it. And on the sword was written in letters

of gold, "Whoso pulleth out the sword from this stone is born the

rightful King of England."

At this all the people wondered greatly; and, when Mass was over, the

nobles, knights, and princes ran out eagerly from the church to see the

stone and sword; and a law was forthwith made that whoso should pull out

the sword should be acknowledged straightway King of Britain.

Then many knights and barons pulled at the sword with all their might,

and some of them tried many times, but none could stir or move it.

When all had tried in vain, the archbishop declared the man whom Heaven

had chosen was not yet there. "But God," said he, "will doubtless make

him known ere many days."

So ten knights were chosen, being men of high renown, to watch and keep

the sword; and there was proclamation made through all the land that

whosoever would, had leave and liberty to try and pull it from the

stone. But though great multitudes of people came, both gentle and

simple, for many days, no man could ever move the sword a hair's breadth

from its place.

Now, at the New Year's Eve a great tournament was to be held in London,

which the archbishop had devised to keep together lords and commons,

lest they should grow estranged in the troublous and unsettled times. To

the which tournament there came, with many other knights, Sir Ector,

Arthur's foster-father, who had great possessions near to London; and

with him came his son, Sir Key, but recently made knight, to take his

part in the jousting, and young Arthur also to witness all the sports

and fighting.

But as they rode towards the jousts, Sir Key found suddenly he had no

sword, for he had left it at his father's house; and turning to young

Arthur, he prayed him to ride back and fetch it for him. "I will with a

good will," said Arthur; and rode fast back after the sword.

But when he came to the house he found it locked and empty, for all were

gone forth to see the tournament. Whereat, being angry and impatient, he

said within himself, "I will ride to the churchyard and take with me

the sword that sticketh in the stone, for my brother shall not go

without a sword this day."

So he rode and came to the churchyard, and alighting from his horse he

tied him to the gate, and went to the pavilion, which was pitched near

the stone, wherein abode the ten knights who watched and kept it; but he

found no knights there, for all were gone to see the jousting.

Then he took the sword by its handle, and lightly and fiercely he pulled

it out of the stone, and took his horse and rode until he came to Sir

Key and delivered him the sword. But as soon as Sir Key saw it he knew

well it was the sword of the stone, and, riding swiftly to his father,

he cried out, "Lo! here, sir, is the sword of the stone, wherefore it is

I who must be king of all this land."

When Sir Ector saw the sword, he turned back straight with Arthur and

Sir Key and came to the churchyard, and there alighting, they went all

three into the church, and Sir Key was sworn to tell truly how he came

by the sword. Then he confessed it was his brother Arthur who had

brought it to him.

Whereat Sir Ector, turning to young Arthur, asked him--"How gottest thou

the sword?"

"Sir," said he, "I will tell you. When I went home to fetch my brother's

sword, I found nobody to deliver it to me, for all were abroad to the

jousts. Yet was I loth to leave my brother swordless, and, bethinking me

of this one, I came hither eagerly to fetch it for him, and pulled it

out of the stone without any pain."

Then said Sir Ector, much amazed and looking steadfastly on Arthur, "If

this indeed be thus, 'tis thou who shalt be king of all this land--and

God will have it so--for none but he who should be rightful Lord of

Britain might ever draw this sword forth from that stone. But let me now

with mine own eyes see thee put back the sword into its place and draw

it forth again."

"That is no mastery," said Arthur; and straightway set it in the stone.

And then Sir Ector pulled at it himself, and after him Sir Key, with all

his might, but both of them in vain: then Arthur, reaching forth his

hand and grasping at the pommel, pulled it out easily, and at once.

Then fell Sir Ector down upon his knees upon the ground before young

Arthur, and Sir Key also with him, and straightway did him homage as

their sovereign lord.

But Arthur cried aloud, "Alas! mine own dear father and my brother, why

kneel ye thus to me?"

"Nay, my Lord Arthur," answered then Sir Ector, "we are of no

blood-kinship with thee, and little though I thought how high thy kin

might be, yet wast thou never more than foster-child of mine." And then

he told him all he knew about his infancy, and how a stranger had

delivered him, with a great sum of gold, into his hands to be brought up

and nourished as his own born child, and then had disappeared.

But when young Arthur heard of it, he fell upon Sir Ector's neck, and

wept, and made great lamentation, "For now," said he, "I have in one

day lost my father and my mother and my brother."

"Sir," said Sir Ector presently, "when thou shalt be made king be good

and gracious unto me and mine."

"If not," said Arthur, "I were no true man's son at all, for thou art he

in all the world to whom I owe the most; and my good lady and mother,

thy wife, hath ever kept and fostered me as though I were her own; so if

it be God's will that I be king hereafter as thou sayest, desire of me

whatever thing thou wilt and I will do it; and God forbid that I should

fail thee in it."

"I will but pray," replied Sir Ector, "that thou wilt make my son Sir

Key, thy foster-brother, seneschal of all the lands."

"That shall he be," said Arthur; "and never shall another hold that

office, save thy son, while he and I do live."

Anon, they left the church and went to the archbishop to tell him that

the sword had been achieved. And when he saw the sword in Arthur's hand

he set a day and summoned all the princes, knights, and barons to meet

again at St. Paul's Church and see the will of Heaven signified. So when

they came together, the sword was put back in the stone, and all tried,

from the greatest to the least, to move it; but there before them all

not one could take it out save Arthur only.

But then befell a great confusion and dispute, for some cried out it was

the will of Heaven, and, "Long live King Arthur," but many more were

full of wrath and said, "What! would ye give the ancient scepter of this

land unto a boy born none know how?" And the contention growing greatly,

till nothing could be done to pacify their rage, the meeting was at

length broken up by the archbishop and adjourned till Candlemas, when

all should meet again.

But when Candlemas was come, Arthur alone again pulled forth the sword,

though more than ever came to win it; and the barons, sorely vexed and

angry, put it in delay till Easter. But as he had sped before so he did

at Easter, and the barons yet once more contrived delays till Pentecost.

But now the archbishop, fully seeing God's will, called together, by

Merlin's counsel, a band of knights and gentlemen-at-arms, and set them

about Arthur to keep him safely till the Feast of Pentecost. And when at

the feast Arthur still again alone prevailed to move the sword, the

people all with one accord cried out, "Long live King Arthur! we will

have no more delay, nor any other king, for so it is God's will; and we

will slay whoso resisteth Him and Arthur;" and wherewithal they kneeled

down all at once, and cried for Arthur's grace and pardon that they had

so long delayed him from his crown. Then he full sweetly and

majestically pardoned them; and taking in his hand the sword, he offered

it upon the high altar of the church.

Anon was he solemnly knighted with great pomp by the most famous knight

there present, and the crown was placed upon his head; and, having

taken oath to all the people, lords and commons, to be true king and

deal in justice only unto his life's end, he received homage and service

from all the barons who held lands and castles from the crown. Then he

made Sir Key, High Steward of England, and Sir Badewaine of Britain,

Constable, and Sir Ulfius, Chamberlain: and after this, with all his

court and a great retinue of knights and armed men, he journeyed into

Wales, and was crowned again in the old city of Caerleon-upon-Usk.

Meanwhile those knights and barons who had so long delayed him from the

crown, met together and went up to the coronation feast at Caerleon, as

if to do him homage; and there they ate and drank such things as were

set before them at the royal banquet, sitting with the others in the

great hall.

But when after the banquet Arthur began, according to the ancient royal

custom, to bestow great boons and fiefs on whom he would, they all with

one accord rose up, and scornfully refused his gifts, crying that they

would take nothing from a beardless boy come of low or unknown birth,

but would instead give him good gifts of hard sword-strokes between neck

and shoulders.

Whereat arose a deadly tumult in the hall, and every man there made him

ready to fight. But Arthur leaped up as a flame of fire against them,

and all his knights and barons drawing their swords, rushed after him

upon them and began a full sore battle; and presently the king's party

prevailed, and drave the rebels from the hall and from the city, closing

the gates behind them; and King Arthur brake his sword upon them in his

eagerness and rage.

But amongst them were six kings of great renown and might, who more than

all raged against Arthur and determined to destroy him, namely, King

Lot, King Nanters, King Urien, King Carados, King Yder, and King

Anguisant. These six, therefore, joining their armies together, laid

close siege to the city of Caerleon, wherefrom King Arthur had so

shamefully driven them.

And after fifteen days Merlin came suddenly into their camp and asked

them what this treason meant. Then he declared to them that Arthur was

no base adventurer, but King Uther's son, whom they were bound to serve

and honor even though Heaven had not vouch-safed the wondrous miracle of

the sword. Some of the kings, when they heard Merlin speak thus,

marveled and believed him; but others, as King Lot, laughed him and his

words to scorn, and mocked him for a conjurer and wizard. But it was

agreed with Merlin that Arthur should come forth and speak with the

kings.

So he went forth to them to the city gate, and with him the archbishop

and Merlin, and Sir Key, Sir Brastias, and a great company of others.

And he spared them not in his speech, but spoke to them as king and

chieftain, telling them plainly he would make them all bow to him if he

lived, unless they choose to do him homage there and then; and so they

parted in great wrath, and each side armed in haste.

"What will ye do?" said Merlin to the kings; "ye had best hold your

hands, for were ye ten times as many ye should not prevail."

"Shall we be afraid of a dream-reader?" quoth King Lot in scorn.

With that Merlin vanished away and came to King Arthur.

Then Arthur said to Merlin, "I have need now of a sword that shall

chastise these rebels terribly."

"Come then with me," said Merlin, "for hard by there is a sword that I

can gain for thee."

So they rode out that night till they came to a fair and broad lake, and

in the midst of it King Arthur saw an arm thrust up, clothed in white

samite, and holding a great sword in the hand.

"Lo! yonder is the sword I spoke of," said Merlin.

Then saw they a damsel floating on the lake in the moonlight. "What

damsel is that?" said the king.

"The lady of the lake," said Merlin; "for upon this lake there is a

rock, and on the rock a noble palace, where she abideth, and she will

come towards thee presently, when thou shalt ask her courteously for the

sword."