table to slay Balin, King Pelles himself the foremost, who cried out,
"Knight, thou hast slain my brother at my board; die, therefore, die,
for thou shalt never leave this castle."
"Slay me, thyself, then," shouted Balin.
"Yea," said the king, "that will I! for no other man shall touch thee,
for the love I bear my brother."
Then King Pelles caught in his hand a grim weapon and smote eagerly at
Balin, but Balin put his sword between his head and the king's stroke,
and saved himself but lost his sword, which fell down smashed and
shivered into pieces by the blow. So being weaponless he ran to the next
room to find a sword, and so from room to room, with King Pelles after
him, he in vain ever eagerly casting his eyes round every place to find
some weapon.
At last he ran into a chamber wondrous richly decked, where was a bed
all dressed with cloth of gold, the richest that could be thought of,
and one who lay quite still within the bed; and by the bedside stood a
table of pure gold, borne on four silver pillars, and on the table
stood a marvelous spear, strangely wrought.
When Sir Balin saw the spear he seized it in his hand, and turned upon
King Pelles, and smote at him so fiercely and so sore that he dropped
swooning to the ground.
But at that Dolorous and awful Stroke the castle rocked and rove
throughout, and all the walls fell crashed and breaking to the earth,
and Balin himself fell also in their midst, struck as it were to stone,
and powerless to move a hand or foot. And so three days he lay amidst
the ruins, until Merlin came and raised him up and brought him a good
horse, and bade him ride out of that land as swiftly as he could.
"May I not take the damsel with me I brought hither?" said Sir Balin.
"Lo! where she lieth dead," said Merlin. "Ah, little knowest thou, Sir
Balin, what thou hast done; for in this castle and that chamber which
thou didst defile, was the blood of our Lord Christ! and also that most
holy cup--the Sangreal--wherefrom the wine was drunk at the last supper
of our Lord. Joseph of Arimathea brought it to this land, when first he
came here to convert and save it. And on that bed of gold it was himself
who lay, and the strange spear beside him was the spear wherewith the
soldier Longus smote our Lord, which evermore had dripped with blood.
King Pelles is the nearest kin to Joseph in direct descent, wherefore he
held these holy things in trust; but now have they all gone at thy
dolorous stroke, no man knoweth whither; and great is the damage to
this land, which until now hath been the happiest of all lands, for by
that stroke thou hast slain thousands, and by the loss and parting of
the Sangreal, the safety of this realm is put in peril, and its great
happiness is gone for evermore."
Then Balin departed from Merlin, struck to his soul with grief and
sorrow, and said, "In this world shall we meet never more."
So he rode forth through the fair cities and the country, and found the
people lying dead on every side. And all the living cried out on him as
he passed, "O Balin, all this misery hast thou done! For the dolorous
stroke thou gavest King Pelles, three countries are destroyed, and doubt
not but revenge will fall on thee at last!"
When he had passed the boundary of those countries, he was somewhat
comforted, and rode eight days without adventure. Anon he came to a
cross, whereon was written in letters of gold, "It is not for a knight
alone to ride towards this castle." Looking up, he saw a hoary ancient
man come towards him, who said, "Sir Balin le Savage, thou passest thy
bounds this way; therefore turn back again, it will be best for thee;"
and with these words he vanished.
Then did he hear a horn blow as it were the death-note of some hunted
beast. "That blast," said Balin, "is blown for me, for I am the prey;
though yet I be not dead." But as he spoke he saw a hundred ladies with
a great troop of knights come forth to meet him with bright faces and
great welcome, who led him to the castle and made a great feast, with
dancing and minstrelsy and all manner of joy.
Then the chief lady of the castle said, "Knight with the two swords,
thou must encounter and fight with a knight hard by, who dwelleth on an
island, for no man may pass this way without encountering him."
"It is a grievous custom," answered Sir Balin.
"There is but one knight to defeat," replied the lady.
"Well," said Sir Balin, "be it as thou wilt. I am ready and quite
willing, and though my horse and my body be full weary, yet is my heart
not weary, save of life. And truly I were glad if I might meet my
death."
"Sir," said one standing by, "methinketh your shield is not good; I will
lend you a bigger."
"I thank thee, sir," said Balin, and took the unknown shield and left
his own, and so rode forth, and put himself and horse into a boat and
came to the island.
As soon as he had landed, he saw come riding towards him, a knight
dressed all in red, upon a horse trapped in the same color. When the red
knight saw Sir Balin, and the two swords he wore, he thought it must
have been his brother (for the red knight was Sir Balan), but when he
saw the strange arms on his shield, he forgot the thought, and came
against him fiercely. At the first course they overthrew each other, and
both lay swooning on the ground; but Sir Balin was the most hurt and
bruised, for he was weary and spent with traveling. So Sir Balan rose
up first to his feet and drew his sword, and Sir Balin painfully rose
against him and raised his shield. Then Sir Balan smote him through the
shield and brake his helmet; and Sir Balin, in return, smote at him with
his fated sword, and had wellnigh slain his brother. And so they fought
till their breaths failed.
Then Sir Balin, looking up, saw all the castle towers stand full of
ladies. So they went again to battle, and wounded each other full sore,
and paused, and breathed again, and then again began the fight; and this
for many times they did, till all the ground was red with blood. And by
now, each had full grievously wounded the other with seven great wounds,
the least of which might have destroyed the mightiest giant in the
world. But still they rose against each other, although their hauberks
now were all unnailed, and they smiting at each other's naked bodies
with their sharp swords. At the last, Sir Balan, the younger brother,
withdrew a little space and laid him down.
Then said Sir Balin le Savage, "What knight art thou? for never before
have I found a knight to match me thus."
"My name," said he, all faintly, "is Balan, brother to the good knight
Sir Balin."
"Ah, God!" cried Balin, "that ever I should see this day!" and therewith
fell down backwards in a swoon.
Then Sir Balan crept with pain upon his feet and hands, and put his
brother's helmet off his head, but could not know him by his face, it
was so hewed and bloody. But presently, when Sir Balin came to, he
said, "Oh! Balan, mine own brother, thou hast slain me, and I thee! All
the wide world saw never greater grief!"
"Alas!" said Sir Balan, "that I ever saw this day; and through mishap
alone I knew thee not, for when I saw thy two swords, if it had not been
for thy strange shield, I should have known thee for my brother."
"Alas!" said Balin, "all this sorrow lieth at the door of one unhappy
knight within the castle, who made me change my shield. If I might live,
I would destroy that castle and its evil customs."
"It were well done," said Balan, "for since I first came hither I have
never been able to depart, for here they made me fight with one who kept
this island, whom I slew, and by enchantment I might never quit it more;
nor couldst thou, brother, hadst thou slain me, and escaped with thine
own life."
Anon came the lady of the castle, and when she heard their talk, and saw
their evil case, she wrung her hands and wept bitterly. So Sir Balan
prayed the lady of her gentleness that, for his true service, she would
bury them both together in that place. This she granted, weeping full
sore, and said it should be done right solemnly and richly, and in the
noblest manner possible. Then did they send for a priest, and received
the holy sacrament at his hands. And Balin said, "Write over us upon our
tomb, that here two brethren slew each other; then shall never good
knight or pilgrim pass this way but he will pray for both our souls."
And anon Sir Balan died, but Sir Balin died not till the midnight after;
and then they both were buried.
On the morrow of their death came Merlin, and took Sir Balin's sword and
fixed on it a new pommel, and set it in a mighty stone, which then, by
magic, he made float upon the water. And so, for many years, it floated
to and fro around the island, till it swam down the river to Camelot,
where young Sir Galahad achieved it, as shall be told hereafter.
VI
THE MARRIAGE OF ARTHUR AND GUINEVERE AND THE FOUNDING OF THE ROUND TABLE
It befell upon a certain day, that King Arthur said to Merlin, "My lords
and knights do daily pray me now to take a wife; but I will have none
without thy counsel, for thou hast ever helped me since I came first to
this crown."
"It is well," said Merlin, "that thou shouldst take a wife, for no man
of bounteous and noble nature should live without one; but is there any
lady whom thou lovest better than another?"
"Yea," said King Arthur, "I love Guinevere, the daughter of King
Leodegrance, of Camelgard, who also holdeth in his house the Round Table
that he had from my father Uther; and as I think, that damsel is the
gentlest and the fairest lady living."
"Sir," answered Merlin, "as for her beauty, she is one of the fairest
that do live; but if ye had not loved her as ye do, I would fain have
had ye choose some other who was both fair and good. But where a man's
heart is set, he will be loth to leave." This Merlin said, knowing the
misery that should hereafter happen from this marriage.
Then King Arthur sent word to King Leodegrance that he mightily desired
to wed his daughter, and how that he had loved her since he saw her
first, when with Kings Ban and Bors he rescued Leodegrance from King
Ryence of North Wales.
When King Leodegrance heard the message, he cried out, "These be the
best tidings I have heard in all my life--so great and worshipful a
prince to seek my daughter for his wife! I would fain give him half my
lands with her straightway, but that he needeth none--and better will it
please him that I send him the Round Table of King Uther, his father,
with a hundred good knights towards the furnishing of it with guests,
for he will soon find means to gather more, and make the table full."
Then King Leodegrance delivered his daughter Guinevere to the messengers
of King Arthur, and also the Round Table with the hundred knights.
So they rode royally and freshly, sometimes by water and sometimes by
land, towards Camelot. And as they rode along in the spring weather,
they made full many sports and pastimes. And, in all those sports and
games, a young knight lately come to Arthur's, court, Sir Lancelot by
name, was passing strong, and won praise from all, being full of grace
and hardihood; and Guinevere also ever looked on him with joy. And
always in the eventide, when the tents were set beside some stream or
forest, many minstrels came and sang before the knights and ladies as
they sat in the tent-doors, and many knights would tell adventures; and
still Sir Lancelot was foremost, and told the knightliest tales, and
sang the goodliest songs, of all the company.
And when they came to Camelot, King Arthur made great joy, and all the
city with him; and riding forth with a great retinue he met Guinevere
and her company, and led her through the streets all filled with people,
and in the midst of all their shoutings and the ringing of church bells,
to a palace hard by his own.
Then, in all haste, the king commanded to prepare the marriage and the
coronation with the stateliest and most honorable pomp that could be
made. And when the day was come, the archbishops led the king to the
cathedral, whereto he walked, clad in his royal robes, and having four
kings, bearing four golden swords, before him; a choir of passing sweet
music going also with him.
In another part, was the queen dressed in her richest ornaments, and led
by archbishops and bishops to the Chapel of the Virgins, the four queens
also of the four kings last mentioned walked before her, bearing four
white doves, according to ancient custom; and after her there followed
many damsels, singing and making every sign of joy.
And when the two processions were come to the churches, so wondrous was
the music and the singing, that all the knights and barons who were
there pressed on each other, as in the crowd of battle, to hear and see
the most they might.
When the king was crowned, he called together all the knights that came
with the Round Table from Camelgard, and twenty-eight others, great and
valiant men, chosen by Merlin out of all the realm, towards making up
the full number of the table. Then the Archbishop of Canterbury blessed
the seats of all the knights, and when they rose again therefrom to pay
their homage to King Arthur, there was found upon the back of each
knight's seat his name, written in letters of gold. But upon one seat
was found written, "This is the Siege Perilous, wherein if any man shall
sit save him whom Heaven hath chosen, he shall be devoured by fire."
Anon came young Gawain, the king's nephew, praying to be made a knight,
whom the king knighted then and there. Soon after came a poor man,
leading with him a tall fair lad of eighteen years of age, riding on a
lean mare. And falling at the king's feet, the poor man said, "Lord, it
was told me, that at this time of thy marriage thou wouldst give to any
man the gift he asked for, so it were not unreasonable."
"That is the truth," replied King Arthur, "and I will make it good."
"Thou sayest graciously and nobly," said the poor man. "Lord, I ask
nothing else but that thou wilt make my son here a knight."
"It is a great thing that thou askest," said the king. "What is thy
name?"
"Aries, the cowherd," answered he.
"Cometh this prayer from thee or from thy son?" inquired King Arthur.
"Nay, lord, not from myself," said he, "but from him only, for I have
thirteen other sons, and all of them will fall to any labor that I put
them to. But this one will do no such work for anything that I or my
wife may do, but is for ever shooting or fighting, and running to see
knights and joustings, and torments me both night and day that he be
made a knight."
"What is thy name?" said the king to the young man.
"My name is Tor," said he.
Then the king, looking at him steadfastly, was well pleased with his
face and figure, and with his look of nobleness and strength.
"Fetch all thy other sons before me," said the king to Aries. But when
he brought them, none of them resembled Tor in size or shape or feature.
Then the king knighted Tor, saying, "Be thou to thy life's end a good
knight and a true, as I pray God thou mayest be; and if thou provest
worthy, and of prowess, one day thou shalt be counted in the Round
Table." Then turning to Merlin, Arthur said, "Prophesy now, O Merlin,
shall Sir Tor become a worthy knight, or not?"
"Yea, lord," said Merlin, "so he ought to be, for he is the son of that
King Pellinore whom thou hast met, and proved to be one of the best
knights living. He is no cowherd's son."
Presently after came in King Pellinore, and when he saw Sir Tor he knew
him for his son, and was more pleased than words can tell to find him
knighted by the king. And Pellinore did homage to King Arthur, and was
gladly and graciously accepted of the king; and then was led by Merlin
to a high seat at the Table Round, near to the Perilous Seat.
But Sir Gawain was full of anger at the honor done King Pellinore, and
said to his brother Gaheris, "He slew our father, King Lot, therefore
will I slay him."
"Do it not yet," said he; "wait till I also be a knight, then will I
help ye in it: it is best ye suffer him to go at this time, and not
trouble this high feast with blood-shed."
"As ye will, be it," said Sir Gawain.
Then rose the king and spake to all the Table Round, and charged them to
be ever true and noble knights, to do neither outrage nor murder, nor
any unjust violence, and always to flee treason; also by no means ever
to be cruel, but give mercy unto him that asked for mercy, upon pain of
forfeiting the liberty of his court forevermore. Moreover, at all times,
on pain of death, to give all succor unto ladies and young damsels; and
lastly, never to take part in any wrongful quarrel, for reward or
payment. And to all this he swore them knight by knight.
Then he ordained that, every year at Pentecost, they should all come
before him, wheresoever he might appoint a place, and give account of
all their doings and adventures of the past twelve-month. And so, with
prayer and blessing, and high words of cheer, he instituted the most
noble order of the Round Table, whereto the best and bravest knights in
all the world sought afterwards to find admission.
Then was the high feast made ready, and the king and queen sat side by
side, before the whole assembly; and great and royal was the banquet and
the pomp.
And as they sat, each man in his place, Merlin went round and said, "Sit
still awhile, for ye shall see a strange and marvelous adventure."
So as they sat, there suddenly came running through the hall, a white
hart, with a white hound next after him, and thirty couple of black
running hounds, making full cry; and the hart made circuit of the Table
Round, and past the other tables; and suddenly the white hound flew upon
him and bit him fiercely, and tore out a piece from his haunch. Whereat
the hart sprang suddenly with a great leap, and overthrew a knight
sitting at the table, who rose forthwith, and, taking up the hound,
mounted, and rode fast away.
But no sooner had he left, than there came in a lady, mounted on a white
palfrey, who cried out to the king, "Lord, suffer me not to have this
injury!--the hound is mine which that knight taketh." And as she spake,
a knight rode in all armed, on a great horse, and suddenly took up the
lady and rode away with her by force, although she greatly cried and
moaned.
Then the king desired Sir Gawain, Sir Tor, and King Pellinore to mount
and follow this adventure to the uttermost; and told Sir Gawain to bring
back the hart, Sir Tor the hound and knight, and King Pellinore the
knight and the lady.
So Sir Gawain rode forth at a swift pace, and with him Gaheris, his
brother, for a squire. And as they went, they saw two knights fighting
on horseback, and when they reached them they divided them and asked the
reason of their quarrel. "We fight for a foolish matter," one replied,
"for we be brethren; but there came by a white hart this way, chased by
many hounds, and thinking it was an adventure for the high feast of King
Arthur, I would have followed it to have gained worship; whereat my
younger brother here declared he was the better knight and would go
after it instead, and so we fight to prove which of us be the better
knight."
"This is a foolish thing," said Sir Gawain. "Fight with all strangers,
if ye will, but not brother with brother. Take my advice, set on against
me, and if ye yield to me, as I shall do my best to make ye, ye shall go
to King Arthur and yield ye to his grace."
"Sir knight," replied the brothers, "we are weary, and will do thy wish
without encountering thee; but by whom shall we tell the king that we
were sent?"
"By the knight that followeth the quest of the white hart," said Sir
Gawain. "And now tell me your names, and let us part."
"Sorlous and Brian of the Forest," they replied; and so they went their
way to the king's court.
Then Sir Gawain, still following his quest by the distant baying of the
hounds, came to a great river, and saw the hart swimming over and near
to the further bank. And as he was about to plunge in and swim after, he
saw a knight upon the other side, who cried, "Come not over here, Sir
knight, after that hart, save thou wilt joust with me."
"I will not fail for that," said Sir Gawain; and swam his horse across
the stream.
Anon they got their spears, and ran against each other fiercely; and Sir
Gawain smote the stranger off his horse, and turning, bade him yield.
"Nay," replied he, "not so; for though ye have the better of me on
horseback, I pray thee, valiant knight, alight, and let us match
together with our swords on foot."
"What is thy name?" quoth Gawain.
"Allardin of the Isles," replied the stranger.
Then they fell on each other; but soon Sir Gawain struck him through the
helm, so deeply and so hard, that all his brains were scattered, and Sir
Allardin fell dead. "Ah," said Gaheris, "that was a mighty stroke for a
young knight!"
Then did they turn again to follow the white hart, and let slip three
couple of greyhounds after him; and at the last they chased him to a
castle, and there they overtook and slew him, in the chief courtyard.
At that there rushed a knight forth from a chamber, with a drawn sword
in his hand, and slew two of the hounds before their eyes, and chased
the others from the castle, crying, "Oh, my white hart! alas, that thou
art dead! for thee my sovereign lady gave to me, and evil have I kept
thee; but if I live, thy death shall be dear bought." Anon he went
within and armed, and came out fiercely, and met Sir Gawain face to
face.
"Why have ye slain my hounds?" said Sir Gawain; "they did but after
their nature: and ye had better have taken vengeance on me than on the
poor dumb beasts."
"I will avenge me on thee, also," said the other, "ere thou depart this
place."
Then did they fight with each other savagely and madly, till the blood
ran down to their feet. But at last Sir Gawain had the better, and
felled the knight of the castle to the ground. Then he cried out for
mercy, and yielded to Sir Gawain, and besought him as he was a knight
and gentleman to save his life. "Thou shalt die," said Sir Gawain, "for
slaying my hounds."
"I will make thee all amends within my power," replied the knight.
But Sir Gawain would have no mercy, and unlaced his helm to strike his
head off; and so blind was he with rage, that he saw not where a lady
ran out from her chamber and fell down upon his enemy. And making a
fierce blow at him, he smote off by mischance the lady's head.
"Alas!" cried Gaheris, "foully and shamefully have ye done--the shame
shall never leave ye! Why give ye not your mercy unto them that ask it?
a knight without mercy is without worship also."
Then Sir Gawain was sore amazed at that fair lady's death, and knew not
what to do, and said to the fallen knight, "Arise, for I will give thee
mercy."
"Nay, nay," said he, "I care not for thy mercy now, for thou hast slain
my lady and my love--that of all earthly things I loved the best."
"I repent me sorely of it," said Sir Gawain, "for I meant to have struck
thee: but now shalt thou go to King Arthur and tell him this adventure,
and how thou hast been overcome by the knight that followeth the quest
of the white hart."
"I care not whether I live or die, or where I go," replied the knight.
So Sir Gawain sent him to the court to Camelot, making him bear one dead
greyhound before and one behind him on his horse. "Tell me thy name
before we part," said he.
"My name is Athmore of the Marsh," he answered.
Then went Sir Gawain into the castle, and prepared to sleep there and
began to unarm; but Gaheris upbraided him, saying, "Will ye disarm in
this strange country? bethink ye, ye must needs have many enemies
about."
No sooner had he spoken than there came out suddenly four knights, well
armed, and assailed them hard, saying to Sir Gawain, "Thou new-made
knight, how hast thou shamed thy knighthood! a knight without mercy is
dishonored! Slayer of fair ladies, shame to thee evermore! Doubt not
thou shalt thyself have need of mercy ere we leave thee."
Then were the brothers in great jeopardy, and feared for their lives,
for they were but two to four, and weary with traveling; and one of the
four knights shot Sir Gawain with a bolt, and hit him through the arm,
so that he could fight no more. But when there was nothing left for them
but death, there came four ladies forth and prayed the four knights'
mercy for the strangers. So they gave Sir Gawain and Gaheris their
lives, and made them yield themselves prisoners.
On the morrow, came one of the ladies to Sir Gawain, and talked with
him, saying, "Sir knight, what cheer?"
"Not good," said he.
"It is your own default, sir," said the lady, "for ye have done a
passing foul deed in slaying that fair damsel yesterday--and ever shall
it be great shame to you. But ye be not of King Arthur's kin."