PART VI

The Return of Sir Launcelot

_Here followeth the further history of Sir Launcelot of the Lake; of how

Sir Percival and Sir Ector de Maris found Sir Launcelot where he was

dwelling very peacefully and happily (albeit not with perfect content)

in the Island of Joy, of which you have heard mention in that which hath

gone before; of the notable affair-at-arms betwixt Sir Launcelot and Sir

Percival, and of how Sir Launcelot, with Elaine the Fair, returned with

Sir Percival and Sir Ector de Maris to the court of King Arthur.

Likewise you shall there read of what befell that noble company in the

Valley of the Fountain aforetold of.

All this history is of such a sort that it hath given me great pleasure

to write it; wherefore if so be it may give you a like sort of pleasure

to read it, then shall I be very well content with that which I have

done in my endeavor to set forth these several events aforesaid._

[Illustration: Sir Lamorack and Sir Percival receive their Mother's

Blessing:]

[Illustration]

Chapter First

_How Sir Percival met his brother, and how they two journeyed to the

priory where their mother dwelt and what befell them thereafter._

Now return we to Sir Percival and Sir Sagramore whom Sir Ewaine left (as

aforetold of) still sleeping in that castle whence we departed so early

in the morning--even before the break of day--to undertake the Adventure

of the Fountain.

[Sidenote: _Sir Percival and Sir Sagramore depart together._]

When those two good knights awoke and founds that Sir Ewaine had

departed, they communed together in the bedchamber of Sir Percival. And

they agreed that thereafter they two should join company and that in

their further search for Sir Launcelot they should travel together as

companions. So when they had broken their fast, they bade farewell to

the lord of the castle, and departed upon their way, travelling very

cheerfully together, side by side, and taking great joy in the gay and

jocund weather, and in all the sweet freshness and the warmth of the

springtide that embalmed them around about.

So they travelled as companions in arms for more than a year, and in

that time they met with several bel-adventures, some of which are told

of in books of chivalry and some of which are not told of. And I would

that I could recount those adventures that befell them, but I cannot,

for it would take another book as great as this to tell all of the

things that happened to them in their journeyings. Yet it shall here be

said that in those adventurings they fell in with a great many sorts of

folk of different condition, both gentle and simple, and that several

times they met certain knights-companion of the Round Table. And it

shall here be said that they met in that wise with Sir Gawaine and Sir

Bors de Ganis, concerning which meeting there shall be more said anon.

[Sidenote: _Of the manner in which they journey._]

And if you would ask how they lodged them during their travels I would

say that they lodged them in divers sorts and ways. For if it happened

that at one time they would lodge them in such a noble castle as that

where Sir Gawaine and Sir Percival met Sir Sagramore, then it would

happen at another time that they would find shelter in the hut of some

lonely shepherd upon the moorlands, and then it would happen at still

another time that they would even have no shelter at all, but would

maybe wrap themselves each in his cloak with nothing beneath him for a

bed but the cold honest earth, and nothing above him for a coverlet but

the silent company of God's own sky, all sprinkled over with a countless

multitude of brightly shining stars. For so those good knights of old

travelled errant in those days, taking whatever befell them in good

part, and accepting all that came to them with a cheerful spirit.

If you would ask me in what sort of weather they travelled, I would tell

you that they were content with whatsoever weather God sent to them; for

if the weather were pleasant, as upon that first day of their journey,

then they would travel very cheerfully up hill and down dale, in

sunshine or shadow as the case might be; and if the weather were foul,

then they would abide wheresoever heaven sent them shelter wherein to

stay until the storm would pass by and be gone.

For this is true, that even wintry weather cannot chill a cheerful

heart; wherefore, when the north wind would bluster loud and

boisterously, and when the falling snow would be covering all the earth

with frozen white, then those two worthy champions would be well content

to lodge them at some wayside inn. For there they might warm them beside

the roaring fire, whereof the blaze would shine in red sparks of light

at several places upon the polished plates of their armor, and whilst

they took cheer in the heat of the fire, and whilst they listened to the

storm, how it beat and drummed upon the windows, and whilst they

harkened at the wind, how it roared and thundered about the gables of

the house, that while they would take great pleasure in the company of

the good folk of the neighborhood, who would be gathered around a merry

bowl of hot mulled ale, with roasted crab-apples bobbing afloat in it,

singing merry songs the while and telling jolly contes, and laughing and

making rude and homely sport in several ways that afforded good

entertainment to those two belted knights who listened thereunto.

Thus you may know how in several ways it was that those two good worthy

knights travelled during that considerable time when they were

journeying together as companions in arms, for in this wise I have taken

great pleasure in telling you thereof.

* * * * *

[Sidenote: _Sir Percival and Sir Sagramore come to a fair valley._]

Now after those two had thus been companions in amity together for the

space of a year or a little more than a year, it chanced upon a certain

day that they found themselves at a place where a woodland ceased and

where there began a very fair valley with a smooth shining river winding

like a ribbon down the length thereof. And they sat at the head of that

valley and they gazed down for some while thereinto, and they beheld

that valley with great joy because it was so fair and fruitful. For in

it were several meadow-lands, all smiling with verdure, and there were

many fields of growing corn, and these fields and meadows rose ever

upward until they cut against the sky, as smooth with fertility as

though carved out with the edge of a sharp keen knife. And beside the

river were banks of reeds and rushes and pollard willows and thickets of

alder and aspen. And the broad highroad followed the course of the

stream and there were several mills in the valley and broad ponds of

water with bosky trees and with houses clustered upon the banks thereof.

And ever the breeze blew mild and steady, and very balmy and warm, and

great round white clouds moved slowly across the high arch of the bright

blue sky.

All this Sir Percival and Sir Sagramore beheld and they took such joy in

it that so I cannot forbear to tell you of it as I have done because of

the joy that I also take in what they beheld. Wherefore I pray you to

forgive me if I have recounted more of those things than need be, who am

writing a history of chivalry and of knightly daring.

So those two worthies sat there where were the highlands at the edge of

the forest, and gazed their fill down upon that valley, all spread out,

as it were, upon a table beneath them, and when they had thus gazed

their fill they aroused themselves from their pleasant contemplations

and descended down into that valley, riding along beside the shining

river.

So they followed the highway, and by and by came to where the road

crossed the river by a high-arched bridge of stone. At that place were

several houses of stone with white walls that stood sheltered with

great, umbrageous trees and the walls of the houses touched the edge of

the smooth and gently flowing river. Coadjacent to this place was a mill

and a sheet of wide-spreading bright water where were so many swifts,

flitting hither and thither above the smooth surface, that they

resembled bees flying about a hive upon a warm day in June.

[Sidenote: _Sir Percival and Sir Sagramore meet a knight at the

bridge._]

Now as Sir Sagramore and Sir Percival approached that bridge aforesaid

with intent to cross it, they were presently aware of another knight who

came toward them from the other end thereof. And as they went forward he

also came forward so that it was likely that they three would meet in

the midst of the bridge. And they beheld that the knight rode upon a

great Flemish charger as black as a coal, and that he was of a very

noble, haughty appearance, showing no fear at their advance, though they

were two and he was but one. For ever he rode forward very boldly, and

with great spirit, even though it would bring him to meet them in the

middle of the way.

There was no device of any sort upon the shield or the armor of that

knight, for it appeared that he was minded to travel unknown; so they

wist not who he was, but in his appearance they beheld that he was

strong and big and very lusty.

[Sidenote: _Sir Sagramore exchanges words with the knight on the

bridge._]

Then as they approached one another Sir Sagramore bespake that knight,

saying: "Sir, what mean you, coming so boldly thus against us? Would you

who are one against two dispute the passage of this bridge with us?"

To this the other said: "Messire, I have no mind to assume any dispute

with you; yet you must be aware that it would ill beseem any one of true

knightly courage to draw aside and to give you way. For, as you say, you

are two and I am but one; wherefore, if I should withdraw me from this

meeting it might be that you would impute a lack of courage to me. So,

meseems, it would be better for you to give way for me, for you could do

so without any impeachment of fear, whilst I would do an injury to the

pure nobility of my knighthood if I should give way to you."

Then Sir Sagramore said: "Sir Knight, it need not be that there should

be two of us against one. Let my companion withdraw to the farther side

of the bridge and let us two try a fall together. So it shall be decided

which of us shall of a verity have the right first to cross this

bridge."

"Well," said the stranger knight, "that falleth in with my will in the

matter; therefore let it be as you say."

So, it being thus decided, Sir Percival drew away from the bridge upon

his side, and those two knights-contestant made each himself ready for

combat. Each chose his station, and when they were in all wise

prepared, each set spur to horse and shouted to the assault and so

dashed together across the space of bridge, each in a cloud of dust and

with a noise like to thunder of horses' hoof beats upon the roadway of

the bridge.

[Sidenote: _The strange knight overthrows Sir Sagramore._]

So they met in the very centre of the bridge with a crash one might have

heard a furlong or more away. In that encounter the spear of Sir

Sagramore broke into many pieces but the spear of the other knight held

so that Sir Sagramore was hurtled with great violence over the crupper

of his horse, and, striking the ground with a roar of falling armor, he

lay there like one who had been struck dead.

Now Sir Percival was greatly astonished to see so potent a knight as Sir

Sagramore thus overthrown, wherefore he hurried forward with all speed

to where his companion lay upon the ground. And Sir Percival leaped from

his horse and went to his friend and found that he was not dead but only

stunned by the violence of the fall he had suffered. For anon Sir

Sagramore began to move and to bestir himself and so, after another

while, Sir Percival was able to raise him up and set him upon his feet

again, albeit Sir Sagramore's head was as light as a feather and swam

like to running water.

Now all this while that other knight had been sitting very steadfastly

observing Sir Percival what he was about. So when he beheld that no

great harm had befallen that knight whom he had overthrown, he spake to

Sir Percival, saying: "Sir Knight, are you satisfied upon your part, or

will you also have to do with me in disputing the pass of this bridge?"

"Sir," quoth Sir Percival, "I would fain have had you go in peace, but

since you have thus offered me the chance of battle or no battle, lo! I

have no such choice, but must needs take this knight's quarrel upon

myself. So make you ready that I may avenge his fall upon you."

Therewith Sir Percival gat Sir Sagramore to horse and cleared the bridge

of him. Then he mounted upon his own horse and made him ready for that

assault which he had undertaken.

So when he was in all wise prepared and perceiving that his enemy was

also ready, he shouted to the charge and therewith drave forward in the

assault.

[Sidenote: _Sir Percival and the strange knight do battle together._]

Then again those two knights-contestant met in the centre of the bridge

with such a violence of meeting that the spear of each was broken into

splinters to the very truncheon thereof. And each would have fallen

before the assault of the other except that, with spur and bridle-rein,

each uplifted his charger to foot again. Thereupon, having no spear

wherewith to do further battle, each knight voided his saddle and each

drew his sword and made him ready for further battle. So they came

together to assault afoot, and presently each fell to lashing at the

other such violent buffets that the sound thereof could be heard in echo

both far and near.

So they fought for a long time and in that while neither gained any

advantage whatsoever over the other. But ever Sir Percival was more and

more astonished at the valor and the prowess of his enemy, for, unless

it were Sir Launcelot of the Lake, he knew not of any one in that land

who might withstand his assault unless it were his own brother, Sir

Lamorack.

So by and by Sir Percival stinted his battle, and he cried out, "Hold,

Sir Knight!" and therewith upon that demand the other also stayed his

assault, and stood leaning upon his sword, panting from the violence of

the battle he had done.

Then Sir Percival said: "Sir, you assuredly fight a very wonderful

battle, for I knew not there was any knight in this realm could

withstand my assault, unless it were Sir Launcelot of the Lake or mine

own brother who is Sir Lamorack of Gales. Wherefore I much marvel who

you can be. Now I pray you tell me, are you Sir Launcelot, or are you my

brother, Sir Lamorack?"

[Sidenote: _Sir Lamorack and Sir Percival declare themselves._]

So spake Sir Percival, and at those words that other knight cried out in

a loud voice: "What say you! What say you! Who are you who layeth claim

to be brother to Sir Lamorack of Gales? Know I myself am Sir Lamorack of

Gales, so that if you are my brother, then you can be none other than

that good worthy knight Sir Percival."

Then Sir Percival cried out in a loud voice, "I am indeed Sir Percival!"

and with that he uplifted the umbril of his helmet and showed his face.

So also Sir Lamorack (for that other knight was indeed he) uplifted the

umbril of his helmet and showed his face.

Then when Sir Percival beheld his brother's face and wist that it was

indeed he against whom he had been doing battle, he cried out aloud: "My

brother! My brother! Is it indeed thou with whom I have fought!" And Sir

Lamorack also cried out, "My brother! My brother!" and thereupon each

ran to the other and embraced him in his arms. And each kissed the other

upon his cheek in great affection of spirit.

Then Sir Lamorack said: "My brother, I prithee tell me who was that

knight whom I chanced to overthrow but now?" and Sir Percival said,

"That was Sir Sagramore." Sir Lamorack said: "That is a great pity that

I should have assaulted him and done him a hurt. Let us now go see how

he doeth."

[Sidenote: _Sir Lamorack knoweth Sir Sagramore._]

So they two went together to where Sir Sagramore was, and they found

that he was now altogether recovered from his fall. And when Sir

Sagramore heard that it was Sir Lamorack against whom he had run atilt,

he made great exclamation of astonishment and he said: "Hah! I am not at

all surprised that I should have met with such a mishap as that fall

which I suffered, seeing that it was thou, Sir Lamorack, against whom I

ran atilt."

After that there was much amicable talk betwixt the three. And after

they had so talked for a considerable while, Sir Percival said to Sir

Lamorack, "My brother, whither goest thou?" To this Sir Lamorack said:

"I go to visit our mother at the Priory of Saint Bridget's. For wit you

it hath now been three years since either of us hath seen her." Quoth

Sir Percival: "Brother, what thou sayst is true, and I am greatly

ashamed that it should be so long a time since I have beheld our mother.

Now I am of a mind to go with thee upon this errand, and I will do so if

my companion, Sir Sagramore, is willing to part company with me." And

Sir Lamorack said, "I pray you do so."

Then Sir Sagramore said to Sir Percival: "Sir, I would not stay you from

your duty. Go you with your brother in God's name and think naught of

me." And Sir Percival said, "I will do so."

[Sidenote: _Sir Percival and Sir Lamorack depart together._]

So after a little while longer of friendly talk, Sir Percival and Sir

Lamorack bade adieu to Sir Sagramore, and after that the two brothers

betook their way toward the Priory of St. Bridget's as aforesaid and Sir

Sagramore went his way alone.

[Sidenote: _Sir Percival and Sir Lamorack behold their mother._]

So Sir Percival and Sir Lamorack travelled upon their way for all that

day, and upon the afternoon of the second day they came to that place

where was the Priory of St. Bridget. Then you may suppose what joy that

noble lady prioress, their mother, had in beholding her two knightly

sons side by side before her once more. For it is recorded that when she

beheld those two noble lords kneeling upon the ground so that she might

bestow her blessing upon them, she wept very tenderly and said: "Ah, my

dear sons! When your father was slain he left me four sons, of whom

twain were slain by treachery so that now but you two are alive." And

she said: "I pray God He may take you into His keeping and cherish you

in all ways that be for your good, so that you may be spared your lives

and not perish by violence as did your father and your two brothers."

After that they three sat together talking very tenderly to one another;

and they sat together far into the night, so that it was past midnight

when they parted company to seek their repose. And as they said good

night to their mother, Sir Percival said: "Before the dawn of day

cometh, dear mother, I must depart upon my journey once more." And Sir

Lamorack said: "Is it so? Then I must depart with thee, my brother, for

to keep thee company." At that the lady prioress fell to weeping, and

still weeping she kissed them both and prayed that God might shield them

both from sin and sorrow; and so they parted for the night.

So it befell that upon the first breaking of the morn, they two took

horse and departed from that place. And when the lady prioress awoke,

they were far upon their way. Then when the lady, their mother, found

them gone, she cried out, "Alas! who would be a mother to suffer such

partings as these!"

[Sidenote: _Sir Percival and Sir Lamorack depart from the Priory._]

Now after Sir Lamorack and Sir Percival had left the Priory of St.

Bridget's in that wise, they rode side by side through the dawning of

the day, what time a thin, cool mist like to a veil of silver lay all

about the meadow-lands; what time everywhere the birds were singing

their pretty matins with great joy; what time the leaves of the trees

rustled with the first breath of the coming day. Anon the sky grew

bright like to shining silver, very clear and remote, and then anon

uprose the glorious sun and sent his beams across the meadow-land and

wold.

Then Sir Percival and Sir Lamorack drew rein and dismounted each from

his steed. Each turned his horse to grass and then each opened his

wallet and broke his fast, quenching his thirst at a forest fountain

that burst out of a cleft rock near by, as clear as crystal and as cold

as ice.

After that they had thus refreshed themselves they took horse again and

once more travelled onward as before.

[Sidenote: _Sir Percival and Sir Lamorack hear a voice lamenting._]

Now about the middle of the day, they being then journeying in a leafy

woodland, they became aware of a sound of lamentation in a part of the

forest and they wist that there was in that place some one who was in

distress. So with one accord they followed that sound of lamentation a

little to one side, and away from the path, and so, by and by, they came

to a certain open glade of the woodlands where they perceived the figure

of a knight stretched out upon the ground. And that knight was covered

with blood and his armor was cleft and broken as with battle. Beside the

knight there knelt an esquire clad all in garments pied of red and

white. And as the esquire thus kneeled beside the knight he wiped the

face of the knight continually with a napkin, and ever made that outcry

of sorrow which they two had heard from a distance.

Then Sir Percival and Sir Lamorack rode forward into that glade and

when the esquire perceived those two strange knights coming toward him,

he arose and stood as though not rightly knowing whether to flee away or

to remain where he was. This Sir Lamorack perceived and so called out:

"Fair youth, be not afraid, but stay and tell us what is this sad sight

which we behold, for we are knights errant and we mean ye well and not

ill."

So the esquire, perceiving their intention to be friendly, remained

where he was, and thereupon they two rode up to him and to where that

figure of misfortune lay stretched in his blood upon the ground. Then

Sir Lamorack said: "Is this noble knight living, or is he dead?" And the

esquire said, "Alas, Messire! He is not dead, but mefeareth he is

dying."

[Sidenote: _Sir Percival and Sir Lamorack succor a wounded knight._]

Then Sir Lamorack and Sir Percival dismounted from their horses and they

went to where lay the unfortunate knight aforesaid. And they examined

him to see whether he were alive; and for a while they thought that he

was dead, but after a while they perceived that he was not dead, but

that he was grievously wounded and very nigh to death. Then Sir Lamorack

lifted up his face and looked at that esquire, and he said, "Who is this

knight, and how came he here?" "Messire," quoth the esquire, "I will

tell you all. This is a very worthy knight hight Sir Tarn. He and his

lady with only myself in attendance were riding this morning through

this part of the forest with intent to go to the castle of a brother of

Sir Tarn's. Right as we rode thus, there met us a very cruel and savage

knight of these marches hight Sir Godwin. This Sir Godwin had with him

several armed men and these fell upon my lord and his lady, and him they

struck down with many dolorous blows and left for dead and her they have

led captive away with them. As for me, I escaped from their hands into

the thick woodlands and after they had gone I returned hither to lend

such aid as I might to my sad, unfortunate lord."

"Ha!" said Sir Lamorack, "this is a very sorry story and that is indeed

a wicked and unkindly knight who treated thy lord in this wise. Well do

I know this Sir Godwin, for I slew his brother, Sir Gaudelin, for such

another piece of mischief as this of which thou complainest." And Sir

Lamorack said to Sir Percival: "Brother, let us put this good knight to

such ease and comfort as we may, and then let us go to the castle of Sir

Godwin and succor that lady of Sir Tarn whom he hath taken away

captive." And Sir Percival also said, "Let us do so."

So they two dismounted from their horses and, with the help of that

esquire they eased Sir Tarn of his armor. After that they searched his

wounds and bathed them from the waters of a near-by fountain of the

forest. And they bound up those wounds with such bandages as they had at

hand and so brought all the ease and comfort they were able to the

wounded man. So anon Sir Tarn opened his eyes and sighed, and anon he

moved and upraised himself upon his elbow.

Then Sir Lamorack said: "Lie still, Sir Tarn, and move not for this

while and until thou art better than thou now art. And take comfort to

thyself, for I am Sir Lamorack of Gales and this is my brother, Sir

Percival of Gales, and presently we go to the castle of Sir Godwin for

to succor thy lady and to bring her to thee again. For indeed I have

great faith that God will be with us in that undertaking, and that we

shall bring you peace of soul as we have brought you comfort of body."

So Sir Lamorack comforted Sir Tarn, and after that they bade the wounded

man adieu for the time and so left him and departed thence, betaking

their way to the castle of Sir Godwin.

[Sidenote: _Sir Percival and Sir Lamorack come to the castle of Sir

Godwin._]

So after a while they perceived the castle of Sir Godwin where it was in

the midst of the woodland. And they came close to the castle and when

they were very near they dismounted from their horses and tied the

bridles each to a sapling. After that they two went up to the gate of

the castle and demanded admission.

Then presently the porter came to the gate and looked forth at them

through the wicket, and he said: "Who are ye that demand admission, and

what is your business?" Sir Lamorack said: "We be two knights who come

to demand of Sir Godwin full satisfaction for the wounding of Sir Tarn

and to demand that the lady of Sir Tarn be set free from durance."

So spake Sir Lamorack, and thereat the porter laughed and said: "Certes,

ye be mad, or else ye be two fearless men to come thus upon such an

errand." Therewith he shut the wicket and went away. And he went to

where Sir Godwin was and told him how those two knights had come thither

and what was their business.

When Sir Godwin heard that message he also laughed and he said to the

porter: "Go thou and admit these two knights, and when they have entered

the courtyard do thou shut to the gate after them. So we will have them

catched as in a trap. After that we may deal with them as we please."

[Sidenote: _Sir Percival and Sir Lamorack enter the castle of Sir

Godwin._]

So the porter did as Sir Godwin commanded; he went and opened the gates

to Sir Lamorack and Sir Percival and he said, "Come in!" and when they

were within the castle he shut to the gate again so that they might not

go forth until they of the castle chose to let them out again. And at

that time Sir Percival and Sir Lamorack were in a courtyard of the

castle and there was no way whereby they might escape from that place

upon any side, for all the doors and passes were closed against them.

Anon came Sir Godwin, the lord of the castle, clad all in full armor.

And he appeared at a balcony that overlooked the courtyard beneath, and

he said: "Who are ye who come hither, meddling with that which concerns

you not?"

Him answered Sir Lamorack very boldly: "Thou wicked and unworthy knight!

Know thou that I am Sir Lamorack of Gales, and that I am he who slew thy

brother, Sir Gaudelin, for such an offence as this that thou hast this

morning committed. I and my brother, Sir Percival, are come hither with

intent to punish thee for the evil thing which thou hast done this

morning, for we will not suffer that such things shall be done as thou

doest. For those were like the deeds that thy brother did and for them

he died. So repent thee or his fate shall presently be thy fate also

unless thou dost presently repent and make amends for the injury thou

hast done."

So spake Sir Lamorack, and at that speech Sir Godwin was so filled with

rage that it was as though all the light of heaven turned red before his

eyes. For a while he could not speak because of that rage, and then by

and by he cried out: "Hah! Hah! Art thou indeed Sir Lamorack who slew my

brother? Now I am right glad of that. Make thine orisons, for this night

thou shalt assuredly sup in Paradise with thy brother for company."

[Sidenote: _Sir Godwin attacks Sir Percival and Sir Lamorack in force._]

Therewith he departed and was gone, and Sir Percival and Sir Lamorack

knew not what was to happen next. Then, after a while, a door of the

castle was suddenly opened upon the courtyard and a score or more of

full-armed men rushed very violently into the space where Sir Lamorack

and Sir Percival were. At that same time another door was opened upon

the other side of the courtyard and thereupon there rushed in Sir Godwin

and other armed men. All of these ran forward and flung themselves upon

Sir Lamorack and Sir Percival with intent to overthrow them by dint of

numbers.

But when Sir Percival and Sir Lamorack were aware of their coming, they

straightway set themselves back to back and each whirled his bright

shining sword about his head so that it flashed like lightning. Then

there befell a great battle in that narrow courtyard, many against two.

Yet ever those two bare themselves very valiantly so that in a little

space of time there were six or ten men lying groaning upon the ground,

and the pavement of the courtyard was become all slippery with blood.

Yea; so great was the terror that those two spread about them that in a

little while they who assaulted them drew away from the death that was

measured out to those who were nearest to the two.

[Sidenote: _Sir Lamorack slayeth Sir Godwin._]

So, for a while, there came a pause in that battle, and in that pause

Sir Lamorack perceived where Sir Godwin stood in the midst of the castle

folk, urging them to the attack. Thereat of a sudden the madness of

battle fell upon Sir Lamorack, so that he waited not for another

assault, but, shouting aloud, he ran at his enemy, whirling his sword

about his head. At that fierce attack the castle folk scattered from

before him like to chaff before the wind, and so Sir Lamorack and Sir

Godwin stood face to face with no one to stay Sir Lamorack in his

assault. Then Sir Lamorack whirled his sword and smote such a buffet

that though Sir Godwin took that buffet upon his shield, yet his wits

melted away from him because of the blow he had received. Then his

defences fell low before him, his head hung upon his breast, he

staggered, and his thighs trembled with weakness. Then he cried out,

"Mercy! Mercy!" saying those words twice over. But Sir Lamorack would

not hear him, but lifting up his sword he smote Sir Godwin again, and

with that second stroke Sir Godwin fell down upon his knees to the

ground. Then Sir Lamorack rushed off the helmet of Sir Godwin and he

catched Sir Godwin's head by the hair and drew his neck forward. And he

whirled up his sword and he smote Sir Godwin's head from his body so

that it rolled down upon the stones of the courtyard.

Now when the followers of Sir Godwin beheld how their master was slain

they were seized with a great terror of death insomuch that they crowded

away to the extremities of the courtyard like to rats caught in a pit.

And they held up their hands and cried aloud, "Mercy! Mercy!"

Then Sir Lamorack, panting for breath from his fight and leaning upon

his sword, said, "Take your mercy." And he said, "Where is the major of

this castle?" They say, "We will get him for you, lord," and therewith

several ran upon that errand. Anon they came bringing a fat old man all

trembling and quaking with fear. This fat old man kneeled down before

Sir Lamorack, and Sir Lamorack said, "Art thou the major of this place?"

And he said, "Yea, Messire." Sir Lamorack said, "What captives have ye

here?" to the which the major replied, "There be seven captives, and

four of those seven are ladies." Sir Lamorack said, "Take us to them."

So upon the command of Sir Lamorack the major arose from his knees,

trembling with fear. And he conducted Sir Lamorack and Sir Percival to

the keep of the castle and to the secret dungeons that were within the

keep. There they found and liberated those seven poor and miserable

creatures who were held prisoners in that place.

[Sidenote: _Sir Lamorack liberates the castle captives._]

Amongst those ladies who were captive was the lady of Sir Tarn, and

amongst the knights who were captive was Sir Percevant of Hind. All

these seven captives Sir Lamorack and Sir Percival liberated and they

gave great praise and loud acclaim to those two most worthy champions

who had set them free from their piteous and miserable durance.

Then Sir Lamorack said, "Where is the treasure of this castle?" and in

obedience to that command, the major conducted Sir Lamorack and Sir

Percival to the treasure-house. There they found twelve great chests

full of treasure, which same Sir Godwin had gathered by murder and

robbery and rapine.

Then Sir Lamorack said: "Let this treasure be divided equally amongst

these captives so that they may be recompensed for all the misery they

have suffered."

So it was done as he commanded and thus it was that those who had been

so sad in captivity were made glad in their liberation. Nor would Sir

Lamorack take any of that treasure for himself; otherwise he gave it all

to those who had suffered so much at the hands of Sir Godwin.

Then after all this was accomplished, it being then come eventide, Sir

Lamorack said: "Let every living soul quit this place, for it is a den

of thieves, and shall no longer be permitted to stand stone upon stone."

[Sidenote: _Sir Lamorack setteth fire to the castle._]

So all they of the castle came and stood without the walls, both young

and old, strong and weak, man and woman, the sick and the well. And when

all had thus come forth, Sir Lamorack gave command that torches should

be set here and there to the castle. So it was done according to that

command, and in a little while all that castle was in a flame of fire,

so that the falling night was made bright with the illumination thereof.

In the light of that illumination Sir Lamorack and Sir Percival rode

away with the lady of Sir Tarn. And they brought the lady to where the

wounded man lay--and he had then recovered his strength in a great

measure and was in a way of regaining his life and his health once more.

So a pavilion was set up over Sir Tarn and after he was in all wise made

comfortable, Sir Percival and Sir Lamorack departed from that place and

went upon their way, riding through the night and all enwrapped around

about by the darkness of the night and of the woodlands.

* * * * *

Thus it was that Sir Lamorack and Sir Percival met at that bridge in

the valley; thus they visited together their mother, the prioress of St.

Bridget's Priory; thus they destroyed that nest of thieves, and thus

they departed once more upon their way.

And now followeth the story of how Sir Percival met Sir Ector de Maris;

of how Sir Percival joined company with Sir Ector; of how they

discovered a certain very wonderful isle in a lake of clear water, and

of how Sir Ector had to do with a certain knight who was the champion of

that island aforesaid.

[Illustration]

[Illustration: Sir Percival and Sir Ector look upon the Isle of Joy:]

[Illustration]

Chapter Second

_How Sir Percival and Sir Ector de Maris came to a very wonderful place

where was a castle in the midst of a lake._

That night Sir Lamorack and Sir Percival lay in the woodlands, each

wrapped in his cloak, and each sleeping very soundly after all the

travails of the day. And when the next morning had come Sir Percival

awoke a little before the dawning of the day and Sir Lamorack still

slept.

[Sidenote: _Sir Percival leaveth Sir Lamorack asleep._]

Then Sir Percival bethought him that he must again depart in quest of

Sir Launcelot and that his brother, Sir Lamorack, was not upon that

quest. So he rose very softly and he went aside and donned his armor so

quietly that he did not disturb his brother's slumbers. After he had

thus donned his armor, he took horse and rode alone into the forest,

leaving Sir Lamorack still asleep where he lay.

And Sir Percival traversed that woodland for a long while, not knowing

whither he went, but trusting ever to God to bring him out thence all in

good time. So as he journeyed he came about the prime of day to a

certain open place where there was a crossroad and a wayside shrine and

a little chapel. And as Sir Percival drew nigh to this place, he beheld

that a knight in shining armor was kneeling at that wayside shrine,

reciting his orisons.

[Sidenote: _Sir Percival meets with Sir Ector de Maris._]

Beside the kneeling knight there stood a noble dapple-gray war-horse,

and the spear of the knight leaned against the bole of a near-by oak

tree, and the shield of the knight hung suspended to the spear. And the

knight wore neither helm nor bascinet, wherefore Sir Percival could see

his face and so could know who he was. And Sir Percival knew that the

knight who kneeled there was Sir Ector de Maris, the brother of Sir

Launcelot of the Lake.

Now though Sir Ector heard the sound of the footsteps of the horse as

Sir Percival drew nigh, yet he neither ceased his orisons nor turned his

head, but ever continued very steadfastly to recite his prayers. And so

Sir Percival drew rein at a little distance and waited until Sir Ector

was done his prayers, nor did he disturb the kneeling knight in any wise

until he had crossed himself and arisen to his feet.

Then Sir Percival said, "This is well met, Sir Ector," and because the

umbril of Sir Percival's helmet was uplifted, Sir Ector knew him and so

he said, giving him greeting, "Well met indeed, Sir Percival."

Therewith Sir Percival dismounted from his horse, and he came to Sir

Ector and clasped Sir Ector in his arms, and each kissed the other upon

the cheek as though they had been brothers.

After that they went a little to one side and sat them down in the soft

long grass of the wayside and beneath the shadow of a wide-spreading

tree.

Then Sir Percival said to Sir Ector: "Sir, hast thou any news of thy

brother, Sir Launcelot?" And Sir Ector said: "Nay, I have no news of

him, but I had hoped that you might have news."

Sir Percival said, "I have no news," and he said, "Do you still go in

quest of that noble and gentle knight your brother?" And Sir Ector said,

"Yea." Sir Percival said: "So do I go upon that quest, and I would fain

that we might travel somewhile together for the sake of companionship."

And Sir Ector said: "So also would I wish it to be."

Now as they thus talked there came the hermit of that chapel to them

where they sat, and he said to them: "Messires, will ye not break bread

with me ere ye depart from this place?" Whereunto they said: "Yea;

gladly will we do so."

So they all went together to the hermit's cell, and therewith he

prepared for them such food as he had at his dwelling-place; to wit,

sweet brown bread, with honey of the forest and berries freshly gathered

from the thickets. So those two noble knights ate with great appetite

and were fully refreshed and their hunger stayed.

[Sidenote: _Sir Percival and Sir Ector ride together._]

Then, after they had thus eaten their fill, they gave many thanks to the

good man for their refreshment and so departed from that pleasant place,

riding side by side together, talking in pleasant discourse, and now and

then chanting a bit of song, either one alone or both together. Meantime

the warm sun shone very brightly, flickering ever and anon through the

leaves and blazing of a sudden with a quick and wonderful glory as it

catched upon the polished plates of their armor.

[Sidenote: _Sir Percival and Sir Ector behold a fair valley._]

In this wise Sir Percival and Sir Ector travelled and by and by they

came out of that forest. And they travelled for several days, until at

last they one day came to a certain place whence they overlooked a

valley. Here they drew rein upon the heights and looked down into that

valley, and they beheld that it was a very fair place. And in the midst

thereof they beheld that there was a lake of water, wonderfully clear

and very blue and tranquil, as it were a part of the bright shining sky

that lay within the cup of that valley. And they beheld that in the

midst of the lake there was an island, and that upon the island there

stood a castle, very tall and stately, and with many tall roofs of tile

that shone all red like to several separate flames of fire against the

mild blue sky behind. And they beheld that there was a little town of

houses of stone and brick not far away from that castle, and they beheld

that the rest of the island was very fertile and green, like to a pure

emerald of bright fertility. And they beheld that there were several

groves and plantations of trees and of fruit-trees at several places

upon the island, so that, what with this and what with that, it was like

a fragment of paradise planted in that place.

All these they beheld, as it were, upon the palm of the hand. And after

they had gazed for a while, Sir Ector said: "Methinks that yonder is as

fair a place as ever I saw in all of my life. Now let us descend

thitherward and let us seek to discover to what noble lord yonder island

castle belongeth." To the which Sir Percival said, "That meeteth

altogether my wishes."

So thereupon those two rode down into that valley and so came to the

margin of the lake. And they beheld that the waters of the lake were as

clear as crystal and that all around the lake was a strand of yellow

pebbles that appeared like pebbles of gold in the sunlight, wherefore it

was as though that lake was altogether surrounded with the ring of gold.

And beyond this strand of pebbles were meadows of long grass and of

flowers, and chiefly these flowers were daffodils.

[Sidenote: _Sir Percival and Sir Ector ride beside the lake._]

So those two knights proceeded along that golden strand, all in the

shining sunlight, until, by and by, they came to a certain part of the

lake that was nighest to the castle. And the island at that point sloped

very gently down to the water, and as these two knights gazed across the

waters they saw how that a wide, smooth meadow lay betwixt the castle

and the waters of the lake, and that the meadow was besprinkled with an

incredible number of bright daffodil flowers like to the meadows upon

the other side of that strand of pebbles. And they perceived that there

was a lady standing deep in the long grass of the meadow and in the

midst of the flowers, and they saw that she wore many ornaments of gold

set with jewels and that she carried a sparrow-hawk upon her wrist.

[Sidenote: _Sir Percival bespeaketh a lady of Joyous Isle._]

[Sidenote: _Of the champion of Joyous Isle._]

Then Sir Percival called to that lady across the water, saying, "Lady,

what is this castle and who is the lord thereof?" To this the lady also

called out in reply (speaking in a voice that was wonderfully high and

clear), saying: "This is hight the Joyous Isle and yonder is the castle

of Joyous Isle, and the lord of the castle is a very noble knight hight,

le Chevalier Malfait. We of this castle are exceedingly proud of that

knight, holding him to be the most noble champion in all of the world.

For there have been several tournaments and jousts held in these

marches, and in none of them hath any one been able to stand against our

knight. And many knights have come hither at different times to try an

adventure against our knight, but all these hath he overthrown with

wonderful skill and strength."

Thus spake that lady; and to her Sir Percival said: "Certes, lady, this

must be a very noble knight according to your accounting. Now I pray you

tell me how came so puissant a knight as that into this remote place?"

Quoth she: "I cannot rightly tell you that, only I know that he came

hither as a madman and that he was healed of his madness, and that he

was wedded to the daughter of the king of this country, who is one of

the most beautiful ladies in the world, and that since then he hath been

living here at Joyous Isle."

Then Sir Percival said: "Lady, we came not hither upon any such

adventure as that of trying the skill of your champion, but what you

inform us concerning him giveth me a great appetite to try of what

mettle he is. Now I pray you tell me, how may I come at this knight so

as to adventure myself against him."

At this the lady laughed, and she said: "Messire, if such be your wish,

you will find yourself very welcome at this place. If you would come at

this adventure, you must travel by the margin of the lake a little

farther upon the way you are going and until you have come to that part

of the lake that is back of the castle. There you will find a ferryman

and his two sons. Make your want known to this ferryman and he will take

you into his boat and will ferry both you and your two horses across the

water of the lake so that you may come to the other side."

So spake the lady; and after that Sir Percival gave her gramercy and

therewith he and Sir Ector took their departure. And so they travelled

some little while by the margin of the lake as the lady with the

sparrow-hawk had directed, and by and by they came to that part of the

lake that was back of the castle. Here they beheld a vessel such as the

lady had described, and they beheld a hut beside the margin of the lake;

and when they called there came forth out of the hut the ferryman and

two others who were his sons. Of these Sir Percival made demand that

they should transport him across the lake to the island and thereupon

the ferryman immediately prepared to do so.

Then Sir Percival said to Sir Ector: "Sir, I pray you of your courtesy

for one thing," and Sir Ector said, "What is that?" Sir Percival said:

"I pray you that you will abide here and let me undertake this adventure

alone. For I would not have it that two of us together should go forth

against this one knight. And indeed I have great hope that I may be

successful in this, even though I go thus alone, wherefore it is that I

pray you of your courtesy that you will abide here, and patiently await

my return."

So spake Sir Percival, and Sir Ector said: "Messire, let it be as you

say and I will even abide here at this place and await your return. And

if you should fail in that which you undertake, then will I also essay

this adventure to discover if I may meet with better success."

[Sidenote: _Sir Percival passeth to Joyous Isle._]

So therewith Sir Percival entered the boat, and the ferryman and his two

sons also entered it, and they bent to their oars and in a little while

they had rowed Sir Percival across the water to the island that lay upon

the farther side.

Then when Sir Percival had safely come to the island in that wise, he

rode up toward the castle through that very pleasant meadow aforetold

of, and so came to the castle gateway. Here he beheld a bugle horn

hanging by a chain. Then he took that bugle horn into his hands and blew

upon it until the walls of the castle rang with the sound thereof. Anon,

in answer to that blast, there came the porter of that castle and looked

at Sir Percival through the wicket of the gate. And the porter said:

"Messire, what would you have of us of this castle?"

Quoth Sir Percival: "Good man, I have heard news of the great prowess of

the knight-champion of this castle, and so I have come hither to make a

better acquaintance of that prowess. Now I, pray you to go to him and to

tell him that there hath come an errant knight who would fain do battle

with him in a friendly tilt if so be he will come forth hither without

the castle and meet me in the meadow that lieth beneath the walls. For

that meadow is a pleasant place, smooth and level, where two knights may

have great joy in running atilt in friendly contest."

"Messire," quoth the porter, "it needs not that the knight of this

castle should come forth out of the castle to meet you. For inside of

this castle is a very pleasant tilt yard, and there is a gallery around

about the tilt yard whence the lords and ladies of this place may view

the contest between you and our knight. Wherefore, I pray you enter and

take no fear, for you will be very well received at this place."

"I give you gramercy," said Sir Percival, "and I find that this is

indeed a very gentle and kindly place whereunto I have come. So I pray

you give me way and I will enter as you desire me to do."

[Sidenote: _Sir Percival entereth the castle of Joyous Isle._]

So anon the portcullis of the castle was raised and the drawbridge was

let fall and thereupon Sir Percival rode forward across the drawbridge

and entered the castle and the courtyard thereof, the iron hoofs of his

horse sounding very loud and noisy upon the stones of the pavement.

Then immediately there came several esquires running to him and asked of

him what was his will and why he had come to that place. Sir Percival

told them what he would have, and that he would have a friendly contest

of arms with the knight of that place; whereunto the esquires said, "It

shall be as you desire."

So two of those esquires ran to find the knight of the castle to tell

him how that a challenger was come to run atilt against him, and

meantime several other esquires led Sir Percival's horse to the tilt

yard of the castle and others still again brought him a cup of fair

spiced wine for his refreshment. Anon the folk of the castle began to

gather in the balcony that overlooked the tilt yard, and Sir Percival,

casting upward his eyes toward those who gathered there, beheld that

that was as fair a court of chivalry as ever had looked down upon any

battle that he had fought in all of his life.

After that, and by and by, there came the knight-champion of the castle,

riding into the farther extremity of the tilt yard, and when Sir

Percival looked upon him it seemed to him that he had hardly ever seen

so noble and haughty a figure as that castle champion presented.

[Sidenote: _Sir Percival doeth battle with the champion of Joyous

Isle._]

Then straightway those two knights prepared each himself for the

encounter, and when they were in all ways made ready the marshal of the

lists came forward and proclaimed the conditions of battle--that it was

to be ahorseback or afoot as the knights-contestant chose. After that

proclamation the marshal withdrew a little to one side. Then he called

upon those knights to make them ready. Then in another little while, and

beholding that they were both ready in all wise, he blew a loud blast

upon his trumpet, whereupon in an instant they quitted each his post and

launched the one against the other like to two bulls rushing together in

a charge. So they two met in the midst of the course with such an uproar

of encounter that the ears of those who stood near by were stunned with

the noise thereof.

In that encounter each knight splintered his lance to the very butt

thereof, and at the violence of the blow that each gave the other, the

horse of each tottered back upon his haunches and would have fallen but

for the address of the knight rider, who quickly recovered him with spur

and voice and rein.

Then each knight voided his saddle and leaped to the ground, and each

drew his sword from its sheath for an encounter afoot. Then flashed

their swords like lightning in the sunlight, and blow followed blow with

such great spirit and good will that the sound thereof deafened the ears

of those who looked down upon that encounter from the balcony. And ever

these two champions lashed at the other such buffets that it was a

wonder that any skill and address at arms could have turned aside such

strokes as fell in that friendly battle.

So they two fought for so long a time that those who onlooked were

astonished at the strength and the courage and the endurance of those

two champions, and in all that while neither knight had suffered aught

of harm and neither had had aught of advantage over the other.

[Sidenote: _Sir Percival and the champion stint their battle._]

Then at last the champion of the castle cried out, "Sir Knight, hold thy

hand!" and thereupon Sir Percival ceased his battle and stood leaning

upon the pommel of his sword, panting because of the great endeavor

which he had put forth during that conflict. Then the knight-champion of

the castle said: "Messire, I have met many knights in my day and amongst

them I have encountered those who were regarded to be the best knights

in the world, yet I make my vow that never until this time have ever I

met any knight who hath proved himself to be so strong and so powerful

as you have shown yourself to be in this battle. Now I pray you,

Messire, that you of your courtesy will declare your name and degree,

for I doubt me not that you are one whom we shall find to have conferred

great honor upon us by coming to this place."

[Sidenote: _Sir Percival declareth himself._]

To this Sir Percival said: "Messire, your civility of words is equal to

your address at arms. Gladly will I declare my name and degree, and

happy will I be if it hath aught of significance to you, for I do not

think that even Sir Launcelot of the Lake himself was ever a better

knight than you have shown yourself to be. Know you that I am Sir

Percival of Gales and that I am son to King Pellinore and brother unto

Sir Lamorack of Gales. And now I beseech you upon your part to declare

your name and title to me."

But to this speech the champion of the castle made no reply. Otherwise,

when he heard what Sir Percival said, and when he heard the name and

degree of Sir Percival, he gave forth a great cry, either of joy or of

something different from joy. Therewith, and thus crying out, he flung

away his sword and he flung away his shield, and he ran to Sir Percival

and threw himself down upon his knees before Sir Percival and embraced

him about the thighs. And he cried out: "What have I done! What have I

done to do battle with thee in this wise!"

At this Sir Percival was very greatly astonished and he said: "Sir, what

is this thou doest to kneel to me? Who art thou who sayst such words as

these I hear? Now I pray thee that thou wilt immediately declare thyself

to me who thou art!"

[Sidenote: _Sir Launcelot declareth himself._]

Then that knight, still kneeling, said: "Sir Percival, I am he whom men

one time called Sir Launcelot of the Lake." Therewith saying, that

knight of the castle lifted up the umbril of his helmet and Sir Percival

beheld that it was indeed Sir Launcelot.

Then Sir Percival cried out even as Sir Launcelot had done, and thus

crying out he said: "At last, at last I have found thee!" Therewith he

lifted up Sir Launcelot into his arms, and he embraced Sir Launcelot and

kissed him upon the cheek and they wept over one another with a great

joy of meeting, and all those in the balcony who beheld that sight

wondered what was its occasion.

[Sidenote: _Sir Percival beholdeth Elaine the Fair._]

Then Sir Launcelot said to Sir Percival: "Sir, let me bring you to my

lady." And therewith he took Sir Percival by the hand and led him up

into the gallery and to where the Lady Elaine sat in the midst of her

court. And Sir Percival looked with a very earnest regard upon that

lady, and it appeared to him that he had never before beheld so sweet

and gentle and beautiful a countenance as that which he then looked

upon. And Sir Percival said: "Lady, now that I see thee I wonder not

that Sir Launcelot hath remained thus hidden away from the sight of all

of us for these two years past. For if this island wherein ye dwell is a

fair paradise then certes art thou a very fitting queen to that

dwelling-place."

So spake Sir Percival, and after he had spoken the Lady Elaine smiled

very kindly upon him and she said: "Messire, your words are very fair

and they flatter me far beyond my deserving. Great is your renown

amongst us and I declare that you are very welcome to this place. Now I

pray you put aside your armor and bathe and refresh yourself, and after

that we shall all take gentle sport together."

Sir Percival said: "Lady, gladly would I stay with you at this present.

But there is awaiting me at another place not far distant from this one

whom Sir Launcelot will be even more glad to behold than he was glad to

behold me. Now I pray you, suffer me first to go and bring that one

hither and then will we both remain with you in greater joy of your

company."

Quoth Sir Launcelot, "Who is it that could give me more pleasure to see

than you, Sir Percival?"

"Sir," said Sir Percival, "it is your own brother, Sir Ector. For I left

him upon the other side of the water of this lake whilst I came hither

alone to try my fortune with you. Now I pray you let me go to him and

bring him hitherward so that we may all rejoice together."

Then Sir Launcelot cried out: "This is indeed joy upon joy. Now I pray

you, Sir Percival, go and bring him!" Therewith Sir Percival departed to

fetch Sir Ector thither in accordance with that saying.

So Sir Percival rode down through the meadow of the island to the margin

of the lake, and when he had come there the ferryman ferried him across

the water as they had brought him across before. And Sir Percival found

Sir Ector waiting for him, who, when he beheld Sir Percival coming,

said: "Sir, what fortune had you in your adventure?" Quoth Sir Percival:

"Oh, friend! that fortune which I had was greater than you or I could

have deemed to be possible."

At these words Sir Ector was greatly astonished, and he said: "What

great fortune is this of which thou speakest?" and Sir Percival said: "I

will tell thee. Whom thinkest thou I have found upon this adventure?

None other than thine own brother, Sir Launcelot, for he it is who is

the lord of this castle."

Then Sir Ector cried out with astonishment, and he said: "Can this be so

indeed?" And then he said: "Let us make haste and go to him upon the

wings of the wind."

[Sidenote: _Sir Percival bringeth Sir Ector to Joyous Isle._]

So again they entered the ferry and were ferried across the water. And

after they were upon the farther side they rode together through that

meadow of flowers and up to the castle.

Now as they drew nigh to the castle in that wise they beheld a great

concourse of the castle folk coming forth to meet them and giving great

sound of jubilation and rejoicing. At the head of these who approached

to meet them came Sir Launcelot and the Lady Elaine, they two riding

side by side, Sir Launcelot upon a great black horse, and she upon a

white palfrey. And she was clad all in garments of white sarsanet

embellished with pearls and embroidered with threads of silver, and she

was adorned with ornaments of shining gold and she wore a golden crown

upon her head such as was befitting the daughter of a king to wear. Her

fair hair was enmeshed in a network of golden threads so that what with

this and that her beauty shone from afar with exceeding lustre. And

though Sir Ector had beheld her aforetime yet it was as though he had

never beheld her until that day, for her joy and her pride of Sir

Launcelot and in his meeting Sir Ector and Sir Percival again so

illuminated her countenance that it was as though her beauty shone with

a singular brightness from within; yea, it was as though her soul itself

had illuminated her body of flesh with a pure and shining beauty that

was other than of this world.

[Sidenote: _Sir Ector and Sir Launcelot meet one another._]

So as they met, Sir Launcelot and Sir Ector each leaped from his horse

and they ran together and embraced and kissed each other and wept one

upon another in such a wise that all of those who looked on wept also

for joy of their joy. And then Sir Ector came to the lady and took her

by the hand and kissed her hand and kissed it again and yet again.

After that they all went up to the castle of the Joyous Isle together,

and they entered into the castle with sounds of rejoicing and loud

acclaim so that the very walls of the castle seemed, as it were, to cry

out with joy. So after they had thus entered the castle, a number of

attendants took Sir Percival and Sir Ector and made them comfortable in

all wise. And they were given rich robes of royal make for to wear and

after that there was feasting and rejoicing beyond measure.

Thereafter day followed day in great cheer and mirth and there were many

joustings and tournaments held in honor of these two royal knights who

had come thither.

* * * * *

[Sidenote: _Sir Ector bespeaketh Sir Launcelot._]

Now one day Sir Launcelot and Sir Ector were walking together in the

garden of that fair castle and they were alone, no attendants being with

them at that time. Anon Sir Ector said to Sir Launcelot, "My brother, I

pray ye read me a riddle." Quoth Sir Launcelot, "What is your riddle?"

"It is this," said Sir Ector: "What should one do if a messenger came to

him with command from a queen to whom he had sworn duty--that command

being that he should show himself at court? Should that one neglect the

command that his queen had transmitted to him, or should he obey that

command."

Then Sir Launcelot turned his face aside so that Sir Ector might not

read his eyes, and after a little he said, "I will not return to court."

"Why will ye not do so?" said Sir Ector, and Sir Launcelot made reply:

"Because a duty that is greater than any queen's command keeps me here

with this lady unto whom I have pledged all my truth and all my faith."

After that Sir Ector was silent for a little, and then after a little

while he said: "Sir, you know very well that I would do naught to advise

you against that which I believe to be your duty and your honor. But are

you so doubtful of yourself that you fear to perform one duty lest you

should fail in another duty? Now we are commanded by that queen whom you

swore to serve to search you out and to find you and to tell you that it

is her command unto you that you return to the court of the Great King

and make your peace with her. Are you then so doubtful of your truth to

the Lady Elaine that you fear to obey the command of the Queen?"

Then Sir Launcelot cried out, "Say no more to me of this!" and so Sir

Ector said no more. So, shortly afterward they parted company.

After that they had so parted Sir Launcelot went to a certain chamber of

the castle where he was alone and there he communed with his spirit, and

these communings were very bitter and sad. Anon came the Lady Elaine to

that place and knocked upon the door and demanded entrance, but for a

while Sir Launcelot denied her. But ever she knocked, and so after a

while he opened the door a little and admitted her into that place where

he was.

Then the Lady Elaine came close to Sir Launcelot and looked very deeply

into his eyes, and by and by she said, "Launcelot, what ails thee?" He

said, "My brother hath been talking to me concerning certain matters."

She said, "What was it he said to thee?" And Sir Launcelot replied, "I

will not tell thee."

[Sidenote: _The Lady Elaine bespeaketh Sir Launcelot._]

Then the Lady Elaine smiled into Sir Launcelot's face and she said: "It

needs not that thou shouldst tell me what thy brother said, for I can

guess very well what it was." Then she took Sir Launcelot's head into

her embrace and she said, "Launcelot! Launcelot!" and he said, "Elaine!

Elaine!" And the Lady Elaine said: "Alas, love, thou must return with

these good knights unto the court of the King, for it is thy duty to do

so. After that thou mayst return hither, and I pray God that thy staying

away from this place may not be for very long."

Then Sir Launcelot said: "Elaine, I will not go away from this place

unless it be that thou also goest with me. Wherefore, if thou wilt have

me go to King Arthur's court, then go thou along with me. Otherwise, if

thou wilt not do that, then I will disobey the Queen's commands and will

stay forever here with thee."

Then the Lady Elaine smiled again though somewhat sadly and she said:

"Ah, Launcelot, I am sorry for thee and for thy doubts. But as thou

wilt have it so, so let it be and I will go with thee to the court of

the King." Therewith she kissed Sir Launcelot upon the face and he

kissed her as with a great passion.

[Sidenote: _They all depart from Joyous Isle._]

So three days after that time all they departed from Joyous Isle--to

wit, Sir Launcelot and Sir Percival and Sir Ector and the Lady

Elaine--and in the court who went along with them there also travelled

Sir Lavaine, the Lady Elaine's brother, who had aforetime been Sir

Launcelot's companion at arms in that tournament at Astolat as aforetold

of. These with their courts of esquires and ladies and demoiselles

wended their way from that place with great state of departure and with

all the pomp and circumstance that befitted the high estate of those who

travelled.

* * * * *

So it was that Sir Launcelot was found, and now if you will read this

history further you shall hear of a very pleasant adventure that befell

them upon their way to the castle of King Arthur and of how Sir Ewaine

and the Lady of the Fountain joined them and went with them to the court

of the King.

[Illustration]

[Illustration: Sir Lavaine the Son of Pelles:]

[Illustration]

Chapter Third

_How Sir Launcelot and Sir Percival and Sir Ector and the Lady Elaine

progressed to the court of King Arthur, and how a very good adventure

befell them upon their way._

Now, as was said, Sir Launcelot and the Lady Elaine departed for

Camelot, together with Sir Percival and Sir Ector and Sir Lavaine, for

their intent was to return to King Arthur's court. With them went a very

noble court of knights and ladies, and of many attendants of all degrees

in waiting upon them. So it was that whensoever their cavalcade would

make a halt, that place where they would rest would suddenly bloom

forth, as it were, with the glory of their coming. For upon such a halt

there would immediately be spread a number of pavilions of all sorts and

colors for the accommodation of those lords and ladies, wherefore the

green fields and meadow-lands would presently be covered all over with a

great multitude of gay colors of all sorts, bedazzling the eye with

their brightness and their variety. Then all the air would be aflutter

with silken pennants and banners, and all would be bright with the

shining of armor and the movement of gaily clad figures, and all would

be merry with the chatter and music of many voices talking together, and

all would be alive with movement and bustle--some running hither and

some running thither--and everywhere pages and esquires would be busy

polishing pieces of armor, and damsels would be busy in gentle

attendance upon the lady.

[Sidenote: _How they rest within the forest._]

So it was that they made progression in that wise, all gay and

debonnaire, and so one day they made halt toward the sloping of the

afternoon in a certain very pleasant woodland where a fair fountain of

water, as clear as crystal and as cold as ice, came gushing forth from a

mossy rock of the woodland. Here was a very pleasant meadow of lush

green grass all besprinkled with pretty flowers and around about stood

the trees of the forest, ever rustling and murmuring their leaves in the

soft and balmy breezes that caused their ancient heads to move, very

slowly this way and that, as though they were whispering to one another

concerning the doings of those gay travellers aforesaid.

Now as those knights and ladies who had been travelling all that day

were anhungered with journeying, a repast had been spread in the open

air, and all they sat at table with only the blue sky and the bright

floating clouds above their heads for a canopy, and only the soft green

grass and the pretty flowers beneath their feet for a carpet. And so as

they sat, pages and attendants ran hither and thither with plates and

dishes and pattens of silver and of gold full of meats of all kinds, and

with beakers and pitchers and goblets of silver and of gold full of

wines of various sorts; and with these foods the attendants served that

noble company as they sat at table. And all the stillness of the forest

was filled full of the noise of the chanting of many voices, and of

laughter and of snatches of song. What time there stood near by several

minstrels who played upon harps for the entertainment of those who ate

at the table.

[Sidenote: _A strange damsel appeareth in the forest._]

So, as they sat, all enjoying themselves with feasting and good cheer,

there came forth of a sudden from the forest a very beautiful damsel

riding upon a milk-white horse with two esquires in attendance upon

her--the one walking upon the one side of her horse, and the other upon

the other. This damsel and the esquires were all clad in flame-colored

satin and all these were adorned with many ornaments of gold. And the

damsel wore about her neck several shining necklaces of gold inset with

jewels of divers sorts, and she wore armlets of gold also inset with

jewels upon her arms, and her hair was gathered into a net of gold. So

it was, what with that flaming raiment and the shining of those several

ornaments of gold, that she who came thither was all one living flame of

fire.

So she drew nigh to them who sat at table, and they beheld that the face

of that damsel was of a very singularly beautiful appearance, being like

to ivory for whiteness; and they beheld that her lips were like to coral

for redness, and that her eyes were like two jewels, very bright and

shining. And they beheld that her hands were long and slender, and were

adorned with many rings of wrought gold, so that each finger shone, as

it were, with pure brightness because of those several hoops of gold

that encircled them.

Such was the appearance of that damsel and all they who sat there at

feast were astonished with wonderment when they beheld her, for they all

wist that without doubt she was fay.

[Sidenote: _The damsel bespeaketh them._]

Now when that damsel had come pretty close to where they sat at their

feast, she drew rein and cried out: "God save you, gentles! Now I pray

you tell me if there is any knight here who hath a mind for an adventure

that would doubtless be very pleasant for him to undertake?"

To this Sir Launcelot made reply: "I dare say, fair maiden, that there

are several knights here who would take pleasure in assuming any

adventure that one so beautiful as you are might call upon him to

perform. Speaking for myself, I shall be very glad to assume such an

adventure; wherefore, I pray thee, tell me what that adventure is."

"I will tell you," said the damsel. "The adventure which I would have

you undertake is hight the Adventure of the Fountain, and if you would

assume it, you have only to take yonder path that leads through the

woodlands in that direction and you shall come to it anon. For if you go

in that way you will come, by and by, to a high mound, where you will

find a huge black man sitting, watching a herd of cattle. Tell him that

you are come to assume the Adventure of the Fountain, and he will direct

you farther upon your way."

Then Sir Launcelot said: "This is a very strange thing that thou hast

set me to undertake. Now I prithee tell me further concerning this

adventure, and what will befall after I have bespoken that black

herdsman of whom thou tellest." But at this the maiden only laughed and

said: "The black man who sits upon the mound, he will tell you all that

is necessary for you to know." Thereupon she turned her horse about and

immediately departed with those two esquires who attended her. And so

presently she reached the edge of the woodland and disappeared into the

forest whence she had emerged not a very long while before. And all that

court of knights and ladies were equally amazed at her coming and at her

going.

Then after she had thus gone Sir Launcelot said: "I know not what it is

that this damsel has set me to do, but let us abide here to-night as we

had purposed, and when to-morrow comes then we will all depart together

in quest of this adventure which she calleth the 'Adventure of the

Fountain.' For I doubt not that it is some very excellent undertaking

that will afford us extraordinary entertainment."

[Sidenote: _They depart upon the Adventure of the Fountain._]

Accordingly, that night they abided where they were, and when the early

breaking of the day had come they departed thence upon the way that the

damsel had pointed out.

After they had thus departed, they travelled for a considerable distance

through the forest in that direction and anon they came to that mound of

which the damsel had spoken. And they beheld that the mound stood in a

wide open space of the woodland. And they beheld that there were many

cattle grazing around about this mound and upon the mound, and they

beheld that upon the mound there sat a gigantic being of such a hideous

aspect that they were astonished at his appearance. For his skin was

wellnigh black, and his half naked body was covered all over with hairs

like to the hairs upon the body of an ape.

Then, when this being beheld them where they came, he roared at them in

a great voice, saying, "Where go ye, little people, and what is your

business?"

To him Sir Launcelot made reply: "Fellow, I came hither to assay that

Adventure of the Fountain and these are my companions who come with me.

Now tell me what that adventure is and what I shall do to fulfill it."

Then that gigantic oaf bellowed with loud laughter and he cried out:

"Seekest thou that adventure? Now I warrant thee, thou wilt be well

satisfied when thou hast found it. For so all have been satisfied who

have come this way. Take thou yonder path and by and by thou wilt come

to a certain valley that is very fair and beautiful. In that valley is a

lake and there is a fountain nigh to the lake, and thou mayst know the

fountain because a great tree stands beside it and shelters the waters

thereof. Beside the fountain is a slab of stone and upon the slab is a

silver bowl attached to the slab by a chain of silver. Dip up some water

from the fountain into the silver bowl and cast the water upon the slab

of stone, and thou shalt straightway meet with an adventure that will, I

doubt not, satisfy all thy desires for a long time to come."

So spake that gigantic being in a voice like to thunder, and after he

had spoken they presently all departed upon further quest of that

adventure.

[Sidenote: _They behold the valley of the Fountain._]

So they travelled a very long distance until by and by they came to that

steep hill aforetold of in this history. Thereafter they climbed to the

top of this hill and found themselves at a place where the forest ceased

and whence beneath them lay a very fair valley. And they perceived from

a distance the lake and the fountain of which they had been told, and

after that they all rode down in that valley and to the place of the

fountain.

Here, finding a fair level meadow, they pitched their pavilions around

about the place of the fountain and Sir Launcelot and Sir Percival and

Sir Ector and their knights armed themselves in all wise so as to be

ready for any sort of adventure that might befall.

[Sidenote: _Sir Launcelot poureth water upon the slab._]

Thus being in all ways prepared, Sir Launcelot approached the fountain,

and when he had come to it he found the silver cup chained to the slab

of stone as the gigantic herdsman had said that he would find it. So he

took the silver cup into his hand, and he dipped up the water of the

fountain therein, and he cast that water upon the slab of stone.

Then it befell just as it had aforetime befallen with Sir Sagramore and

Sir Ewaine. For the earth trembled and shook so that all those who were

there were filled with a great terror at the earthquake. Then there

arose a mighty wind, so violent that all the pavilions that had been

erected were overthrown and blown away before the blast. Then the skies

thundered and thick dark clouds gathered over the heavens so that the

light was presently altogether obscured, although it was hardly yet come

to the prime of the day. After that the rain fell in such a deluge that

all they who were there feared for some while that they would be drowned

in that rainfall. And ever, as it rained, they heard, as from a

distance, the voices of many raised, as it were in lamentation. For all

this was just as it had been when Sir Sagramore and Sir Ewaine had come

to that place.

Then after a while it ceased raining and the clouds cleared away from

the sky, and the sun shone forth once more with an extraordinary

brilliancy. And anon there came that multitude of birds flying, as

aforetold of in this history, and these, descending upon the tree by the

fountain, straightway fell to singing with such a piercing rapture of

melody that the hearts of those who listened were altogether ravished

with the charm of their song.

Then, whilst those who were there stood listening to that singing of the

birds, they perceived a great distance away the form of a knight who

came riding toward that place with great speed. And that knight was clad

altogether in black armor and he rode upon a great black horse, and all

the trappings and the furniture of that horse were as black as all the

other things that belonged to that knight. So that knight came violently

riding to where they were, and perceiving that great court of knights

and ladies who stood there all drenched and wet with the rain, he cried

out in a proud and menacing voice, "Who are ye, and which of ye was it

who meddled with this fountain?"

To this Sir Launcelot replied, "Sir, it was I."

Then the black knight, speaking very fiercely, said: "Know ye that ye

have done a very woeful mischief, for, because you have meddled with

this fountain, ye have brought a deluge upon this land that hath done

great damage to all they that dwell therein. Now make you straightway

ready for battle, for I have great hopes of punishing you for the

mischief you have done to this land by thus meddling with the fountain."

Then Sir Launcelot answered, speaking both with great pride and with

dignity of demeanor. "Messire," quoth he, "never yet have I refused any

call to battle, nor shall I do so at this present. As for that mischief

of which you speak, wit you that I knew not I was making any mischief in

what I did. Ne'theless, now that that mischief is done, I am ready to

defend mine act since you have called upon me to do so."

So saying, Sir Launcelot withdrew to one side in that meadow near to the

fountain as aforetold of; and the Knight of the Fountain likewise

withdrew himself to that same place, and when they had come there each

chose such ground as seemed to him to be best fitted for the encounter.

Meantime, all they who were there gathered in a good place whence they

might onlook that encounter and behold the upshot of the adventure.

So when all was ready for the encounter, as aforesaid, each knight

shouted aloud and drave spur to horse and each charged against the other

with all the fury of two wild bulls.

[Sidenote: _Sir Launcelot doeth battle with the Knight of the

Fountain._]

So they met in the midst of the course with such a roar of encountering

spears and armor that the ears of those who heard it were stunned with

the noise thereof. In that encounter the spear of each knight was

shattered to splinters up to the hand that held it, and the horse of

each sunk back upon his haunches as though he had encountered a stone

wall. But each knight recovered his horse with spur and voice and with

wonderful skill and dexterity, so that neither horse nor man suffered a

fall from that encounter.

Then each knight voided his horse and leaped to the earth and each

straightway drew his shining sword, all flashing in the bright sunlight.

And each rushed upon the other with a great rage for battle, smiting and

slashing with their swords, and dealing such dreadful buffets that those

who beheld that battle were affrighted at the vehemence with which those

two champions fought. So they did combat for a great while and in all

that time neither suffered any great harm from the buffets of the other.

Then, at last, that knight who did battle against Sir Launcelot cried

out, "Stay thy hand for a little, Sir Knight, while I hold speech with

thee!"

So Sir Launcelot ceased his battle and each knight-champion stood

panting, leaning the while upon his sword. Then the Knight of the

Fountain said: "I pray thee, Sir Knight, if so be thou wilt do me that

courtesy for to tell me thy name. For I declare unto thee that never

before this day have I ever met so great a champion in battle."

[Sidenote: _Sir Launcelot declareth himself._]

Then said Sir Launcelot: "Sir, wit you that I am Sir Launcelot of the

Lake. As for you, I know not who you are, only know I for a certainty

that you must be some very puissant champion, for never did I encounter

a more worthy battle than this that I have met with to-day."

Now when the Knight of the Fountain heard the name that Sir Launcelot

declared, and when he wist who it was against whom he had been doing

battle, he cried out in a loud and piercing voice, "What say you?" And

again he cried out, saying: "Art thou indeed Sir Launcelot of the Lake?

Then have I been fighting against him whom I love very dearly and whom I

have sought for both long and far." So crying out, he threw aside his

sword and his shield and ran to Sir Launcelot where he was. And he cast

his arms around the body of Sir Launcelot and embraced him as with a

great passion of joy.

Then Sir Launcelot was greatly astonished to find himself embraced by

that strange knight, wherefore he said: "Messire, who art thou, and why

dost thou embrace me in this wise?"

[Sidenote: _Sir Ewaine declareth himself._]

Upon this the Knight of the Fountain uplifted the umbril of his helmet

and he said: "Behold me! I am thy one-time companion in arms. I am

Ewaine, the son of King Uriens of Gore." Therewith Sir Launcelot beheld

the face of Sir Ewaine and knew him, and thus knowing him, he cried out

with astonishment even as Sir Ewaine had cried out, saying: "Ewaine, is

it thou against whom I have contended? Alas, what have I been doing to

fight against thee in this wise!" Therewith he also cast aside his sword

and shield and took Sir Ewaine into his arms and embraced him before

them all, even as Sir Ewaine had embraced him. Then either kissed the

other upon the face, and after that all the others of those who were

one-time companions of Sir Ewaine came forth and also gave him greeting,

rejoicing beyond measure to see him again.

Then Sir Launcelot brought Sir Ewaine to where was the Lady Elaine and

he made the one acquainted with the other, and Sir Ewaine took the Lady

Elaine's hand into his and kissed it with a great ardor of love. After

that they all sat down together in full amity of discourse.

Then Sir Launcelot said to Sir Ewaine: "Messire, I prithee tell me how

it is that you have come hither and are now dwelling here as the

champion of this fountain. For certes, it is a very strange thing to

find you thus engaged."

[Sidenote: _Sir Ewaine telleth his story._]

To this Sir Ewaine made reply, "I will tell thee." And thereupon he told

them all that had befallen him since he had left Sir Percival to go upon

that Adventure of the Fountain in the which Sir Sagramore had failed to

achieve success as aforetold. Meantime all they listened to him with

great attention and with close regard. And when he had ended, all said

that that was as wonderful an adventure as ever they had heard tell of

in all of their lives.

Then Sir Ewaine said: "Gentles all, I pray you of your courtesy that you

will wend with me to the castle where dwelleth my fair beloved lady, for

certes it would be a great honor to her and to me to have you become

acquainted with her."

[Sidenote: _They come to the castle of the Fountain._]

So said Sir Ewaine, and all agreed with great joy to what he said, so

shortly afterward they departed from that place and betook their way

down that Valley of the Fountain to the castle of the Fountain as Sir

Ewaine asked them to do, and they arrived at that place somewhat past

the noon of the day.

There they were received with great joy and rejoicing, and after that

for several days there was feasting and merrymaking and pleasant sports

of all sorts at the castle of the Fountain.

* * * * *

Now after several days had passed thus joyously at the castle of the

Fountain, it chanced that Sir Ewaine and his lady and Sir Launcelot and

the Lady Elaine were together in the garden of the castle, and no one

else was there but they. So as they sat in discourse Sir Launcelot said

to Sir Ewaine: "Messire, as we are going to the court of the King, will

you not join our company with your fair Lady of the Fountain to

accompany us? Certes it is that there would be great joy at court if so

be we would all return together in that wise."

To this Sir Ewaine said: "Sir, that would indeed be a very good thing

for us to do, and we will be glad to go with you as you ask us."

[Sidenote: _They all depart from the castle of the Fountain._]

So straightway they of that place of the Fountain began to prepare

themselves for journey, and three days after all the court of Sir

Launcelot and his lady and all the court of Sir Ewaine and his lady made

their departure from the Valley of the Fountain and betook their way

toward Camelot.

Now the way they took led them toward that mound whereon sat that

gigantic black man herding his cattle. And when this being perceived all

those people passing that way, he sat there and laughed like to the

pealing of thunder, though why he laughed not one of them wist, for

there was naught of mirth to be seen in their progression. Yet ever that

great black creature laughed and laughed until they had passed by and

gone, still leaving him laughing in that wise.

[Sidenote: _The Lady Vivien hath vanished._]

And as they went still farther along that way they came by and by to

where was the valley of the Lady Vivien. And they looked for that castle

of the Lady Vivien whereunto Sir Ewaine had twice come as aforetold and,

lo! it had entirely disappeared. Yea, there was not to be seen nor stick

nor stone nor sign of it anywhere, and at that they all greatly

marvelled, much wondering what had become of that enchanted place.

Nor was it ever known what had become of it, nor was it ever known

whether the enchantress had wearied of her mischiefs, or whether she

feared the anger of so many who had now been raised up against her. Only

this was known to be true, that she had betaken herself and her court

and her castle altogether away from that place, nor was she seen there

any more again.

Moreover, it is to be said at this place that from that time forth the

enchantment of the fountain was removed and the cup and the slab of

stone disappeared from where they lay, and thenceforward they of the

valley were at peace. So endeth that part of the story of the Fountain.

[Sidenote: _They behold Camelot again._]

Now when that noble concourse of knights and ladies who were in

attendance upon Sir Launcelot and Sir Ewaine and their ladies drew nigh

to the neighborhood of Camelot (which same was upon the fourth day after

they had left the valley of the Lady Vivien) Sir Launcelot sent an

herald messenger before them to announce their coming. So it befell that

when they came within sight of the town, they beheld a great concourse

of knights and esquires of the court who had come forth to meet them.

These gave loud acclaim to Sir Launcelot and his companions, crying,

"Welcome, ye glorious champions who are returning to us again!"

This welcome they gave on behalf of King Arthur, by whom they had been

sent, for the King was glad beyond measure to have those champions who

were so dear to his heart return to him once more. So it was that those

who came to meet them cried out, "Welcome, welcome, ye glorious

champions," in that wise. So rejoicing and giving welcome all they

progressed toward the King's town--Sir Launcelot and his lady and Sir

Ewaine and his lady, and their companions and all their courts,

surrounded with great pomp of circumstance by those knights and esquires

of the court of King Arthur, who had been sent to meet them.

And all they who had thus come forth from the town looked with great

curiosity upon the Lady Elaine and the Lady Lesolie and all were

astonished at the beauty and the grace of these two high dames. But more

especially were they astonished at the beauty of the Lady Elaine, for

her loveliness shone like to a star in the midst of her court, wherefore

they who looked upon her said to one another: "Certes, even Queen

Guinevere herself is not more beautiful than yonder lady."

[Sidenote: _They kneel before the King and the Queen._]

So they came to the King's town and they entered the town and they

entered the castle of the King, and there they found King Arthur and

Queen Guinevere sitting in state to receive them. Both the King and the

Queen were crowned with golden crowns, and each sat upon a throne to

receive those who came in fitting pomp and with sufficient ceremony. So

Sir Launcelot and the Lady Elaine and all those who were with them came

before the King and Queen and kneeled down before them as they sat high

aloft in royal state. Then as they kneeled there the King arose and

descended from his throne and came forward and gave great welcome to

them all; for his heart was filled with gladness and joy to behold them

kneeling before him in that wise.

And all that while the Queen's face was smiling like to a beautiful

mask. And ever she gazed very steadily at the Lady Elaine, beholding how

that the countenance of that lady was exceedingly beautiful and very

noble and gentle. And as the Queen gazed thus upon the Lady Elaine she

hated her with great bitterness, yet ever she hid that hatred beneath a

smiling countenance.

That day there was great feasting and rejoicing at the court of the King

because of the return of Sir Launcelot and Sir Ewaine and Sir Percival

and Sir Ector. And ever the Lady Guinevere took part in that rejoicing,

albeit her heart was full of great bitterness and of a sort of despair.

* * * * *

[Sidenote: _The Queen withdraweth the Lady Elaine from Sir Launcelot._]

Now the next day after that day, the Lady Guinevere sent for the Lady

Elaine to come to her, and when she was come the Queen said to her:

"Lady, I have it in mind to do thee a singular honor that I would bestow

upon thee, and this is that thou shouldst be in personal attendance upon

me. To this end I have purveyed thee a room next to mine own chamber in

mine own part of this castle, and there thou and thy attendants may

lodge so that ye shall ever be near to my person. And ever thou shalt be

in close attendance upon me and never shalt thou be parted from me for

all the time that thou remainest at this place."

Thus spake the Lady Guinevere, for so, under the mask of friendliness

and pretence of doing honor to the Lady Elaine, she purposed to separate

Sir Launcelot from his lady and after that to keep them separate from

one another. This she did, though why she should do it she could not

rightly tell even to her own heart.

* * * * *

So it was that Sir Launcelot returned to the court of the King; so it

was that they were received at Camelot, and so it was that the Lady

Elaine the Fair was separated from Sir Launcelot as I have recounted

above.

[Illustration]

Conclusion

Now at this time the Lady Elaine was in very tender health, wherefore,

after a day or two or three, she began to repine at being thus separated

from Sir Launcelot as aforesaid; wherefore it befell that she grew

lonely in that strange place and wept a great deal and ate little and

slept little.

Now there was at this time with the Lady Elaine that Lady hight Dame

Brysen before spoken of--she who went with the Lady Elaine to Sir

Launcelot when he lay so nigh to death in the castle of Corbin. This

lady saw how it was with the Lady Elaine and how that she pined in that

wise for Sir Launcelot, and she wist that the Lady Elaine was like to

fall sick unless she had sight of her lord. So Dame Brysen went to Sir

Launcelot one day and she said to him: "Sir, if you find not some

opportunity to see your lady, she will fall ill and maybe wane away to

death because of her longing for you." Sir Launcelot said: "How may I

see her?" Dame Brysen said: "Come to me this night in a certain passage

of the castle during the mid-watch of the night and I will bring you to

her. So you may cherish and comfort her for that while and so she will

take good cheer once more."

[Sidenote: _How Sir Launcelot visiteth the Lady Elaine._]

So that night Sir Launcelot came to the place where Dame Brysen had

appointed and Dame Brysen took him to where was the Lady Elaine. And

when the Lady Elaine beheld Sir Launcelot she could scarce control the

transports of her joy in having him with her once more, for she catched

him in her arms and held to him like as one sinking in deep waters holds

to another who comes to save him. And ever she cried in her transport,

"Thou art here! Thou art here!" And ever Sir Launcelot soothed her and

spake words of comfort to her. So at last she took good cheer and smiled

and laughed as she was wont to do aforetime.

So Sir Launcelot remained with the Lady Elaine for a long while, and

Dame Brysen was with them for all that while, and the damsels of the

court of the Lady Elaine were with them, for Sir Launcelot did not quit

that place until the early watches of the morning were come, what time

the Lady Elaine had fallen asleep like to a child who slumbers.

Then ere it was come the dawning of the day, Sir Launcelot took his

departure and Dame Brysen conducted him thence as she had brought him

thither.

[Sidenote: _The Queen is angered._]

Now there was a fair young damsel of the court of the Queen who acted as

a spy upon Sir Launcelot. So when the next morning had come this damsel

went to the Queen and told her how Dame Brysen had brought Sir Launcelot

to the apartments of the Lady Elaine the night before, and when the

Queen heard that news she was wroth as though she were gone wode, yet

what she did and what she said and how she behaved hath never been told,

for no one beheld her in the madness of her wrath but that damsel who

was the spy and one other. Only it is known that after a while the Queen

cried out in a voice very harsh and loud: "Where is that false traitor

knight, Sir Launcelot! Bring him hither!" And then she said: "Let no one

else come in to me but him, and when he comes let us be alone together!"

[Sidenote: _Sir Launcelot standeth before the Queen._]

So anon came Sir Launcelot conducted to that place where the Queen was,

and then all those who were there withdrew, and no one was left in that

apartment but Sir Launcelot and the Queen herself. So Sir Launcelot

stood before the Queen and he said, "Here am I."

Then the Lady Guinevere looked for a long time upon Sir Launcelot, and

her eyes were very wide as she stared upon him and her face was white

like to wax. Anon she said, speaking in a voice that was very harsh but

not loud: "Is it true that thou camest to this part of the castle last

night?" and Sir Launcelot said, "Yea, lady." Then the Queen ground her

white teeth together, and she said, still speaking in that same voice

that was not loud: "Traitor! Traitor! how didst thou dare to come hither

without my permission?"

Then Sir Launcelot looked very long into the Queen's face, and at last

he said, "I am betrayed, it seems." "Yea," said the Queen, "thou art

betrayed indeed, but it is thou who hast betrayed thyself."

Sir Launcelot said: "In what way have I betrayed myself, and in what way

am I a traitor to thee or to anyone? Is not my duty first of all toward

that lady to whom I have sworn my duty? What treason did I then do in

cherishing her who is sick and weak and sad and helpless in this place

where thou keepest her prisoner?"

So said Sir Launcelot and after that those two, to wit, the Queen and

the knight champion, stared very fiercely at one another for a while.

Then by and by the Queen's eyes fell before his eyes, and anon she fell

to trembling. Then, of a sudden, she cried out in a very bitter voice:

"Ah, Launcelot, Launcelot! May God have pity upon me for I am most

unhappy!" Therewith she lifted her handkerchief to her eyes and so

covered her face with it. And that while her face was altogether hidden

excepting her lips which were all writhed and twisted with her passion.

And yet she wept not, but ever her bosom rose and fell very violently as

with a convulsion.

[Sidenote: _Sir Launcelot pitieth the Queen._]

Then Sir Launcelot wist not what to do, albeit his heart was rent with

love and pity. Then by and by he came close to her and he said: "Lady,

lady! What is this you do! May God have pity on us both, for you tear my

heart strings with your grief." Therewith, they two being alone, he sank

down upon his knees before her, and he took her hands into his and

strove to draw them away from her face. And for a while she would not

let him withdraw her hands and then after a while she did let him, and

so he held them imprisoned very tight in his own. Yet ever she kept her

face turned away from him so that he could see but little of it. So with

her face turned away she said after a while, "Launcelot! Launcelot! Art

thou not sorry for me?" He said: "Yea, lady, I am sorry for thee and I

am sorry for myself, and for which of the two I am more sorry I cannot

tell. For God knoweth I would abide by my duty and my faith, and

mefeareth thou wouldst have me do otherwise." Then the Queen said:

"Launcelot, what is duty and what is faith when we measure these things

with the measurement of happiness and unhappiness?" And Sir Launcelot

said, "Lady, for God's sake, forbear."

[Sidenote: _The Lady Elaine appeareth at that place._]

Now as Sir Launcelot said those words he became of a sudden aware that

some one was in that room. So he looked up and behold! not far away from

them there stood the Lady Elaine, and she was regarding them both and

her face was as white as death, for she had entered that place without

their knowing and she had heard much of that which had passed.

Then Sir Launcelot was aware that she had overheard his words to the

Queen and with that he was overwhelmed with confusion and with pity. So

he arose from his knees, though not quickly, and stood there before the

Lady Elaine with folded arms and with his gaze downcast upon the floor.

Then the Queen also looked up and likewise beheld the Lady Elaine where

she stood, and therewith her face flamed all red like to fire.

Then the Queen arose very haughtily and she said: "Lady, this is well

met, for I was about to send for you. Now tell me, was it by your will

that this knight came last night to this part of the castle?" and the

Lady Elaine said: "Yea, lady, it was by my will he came, for I was sad,

and no one but he could comfort me."

Then the Queen's eyes sparkled with anger and she said: "Then you have

broken an ordinance of the King's court, for well you know that such a

thing as that is not permitted. For this I might punish you even unto

death an I chose to do so. Yet I will not so punish you, but will have

mercy upon you and will spare you. Nevertheless I command you that you

quit this place with all expedition that is possible."

[Sidenote: _The Lady Elaine chideth the Queen._]

So spake the angry Queen. But ever the Lady Elaine looked very proudly

upon her. And when the Queen had ended that speech she said: "Lady, it

shall be as you ordain, and to-morrow I shall be glad to depart from

this place, for it is a place of great unhappiness to me. But tell me

this, lady, ere I go: What would you say of one who took from another

who harmed her not, all the happiness and joy that that other had in her

life? And what would you say if that one who would so rob the other had

for herself a lord who was the most noble and the most worthy knight of

any in all of the world?"

At this speech the eyes of the Queen shone very wild like to the eyes of

a hawk. And first she strove to speak and could not, and then she did

speak, yet it was as though the words strangled her. And she said, "Go!

Leave me! You know not what you say!" and other than that she could not

say, but only strove to speak without any sound issuing out from her

throat.

Then the Lady Elaine turned with great dignity and went away leaving

those two alone together, and she neither turned her head nor paused at

any time in her going.

Then the Queen, turning to Sir Launcelot, said: "Messire, I lay this

command upon you, that though your lady shall depart, yet that you shall

remain here at this court until such time as I give you leave to depart

hence." Then she also turned and went away, and for a while Sir

Launcelot remained, standing alone like to a statue of stone.

[Sidenote: _The Lady Elaine quitteth the court._]

So the next day the Lady Elaine quitted the court of the King but Sir

Launcelot remained. And he said not to any one that the Queen had

commanded him to stay, for he would not betray her, so it was that all

who were of the King's court thought that he stayed of his own will.

But ere the court of the Lady Elaine departed from that place Sir

Lavaine, the brother of the Lady Elaine, came to Sir Launcelot and no

one was present but they two. And Sir Lavaine said to Sir Launcelot:

"Messire, do you not go hence with your lady?" and Sir Launcelot said:

"Nay, but maybe I shall follow her anon."

[Sidenote: _Sir Lavaine accuseth Sir Launcelot of treason._]

Then Sir Lavaine said: "Sir, see you not that your lady, my sister, is

in exceeding tender health?" and Sir Launcelot said, "Yea, I see it."

Then Sir Lavaine said, speaking very fiercely: "What honor hath a man

who will leave his own lady for the smiles of another woman? If you do

such a thing you are dishonored as a knight and are a traitor to your

troth."

Then Sir Launcelot looked very steadily at Sir Lavaine and his face was

exceedingly white and his eyes were like to coals of fire. Anon he said:

"Messire, you speak bitter words, but you are safe from mine anger."

Then Sir Lavaine laughed, though not with mirth, and immediately he went

away from Sir Launcelot and left him where he was.

That same hour the Lady Elaine quitted the court of King Arthur, riding

thence in a closed litter so that few, saving those immediately in

attendance upon her, could know aught of what she thought or said or

did.

And yet the whole world might have seen her countenance, for it was very

calm and steadfast and without any mark of passion. And all the world

might have heard her words for those words were also without passion of

any sort. Yea, I believe that at that time her soul itself was

altogether cheerful and well-content and without any shadow of sorrow

upon it.

For once, when Sir Lavaine spoke with great anger and indignation, she

chid him for his heat, saying: "My brother, let be. What matters it?

Could you but see into the future as I gaze thereinto, you would know

that it mattereth but very little indeed that such things as this befall

a poor wayfarer in this brief valley of tears."

And at another time she said: "My poor lord, Sir Launcelot! Him do I

pity indeed, for God is like to chasten him before long, and to bend him

and to bruise him as though he were a reed that was bent and bruised so

that it may never be able to stand fully erect again. Yet even this

mattereth but little; for the span of life is but very short, and all is

in the hands of God."

So spake the Lady Elaine, very calmly and without passion or sorrow of

any sort! For, as aforesaid, I believe that even at that time her eyes

penetrated into the future and that she beheld therein what was to

befall all of them.

Thus they journeyed by easy stages for two days, what time they came out

from the mazes of the forest and into an open plain where they beheld a

fair priory of the forest set in the midst of fair and fertile fields of

corn and of rye. And the walls of the priory gleamed as white as snow in

the sunlight, and the red roofs thereof shone like flames of fire

against the deep blue sky against which they stood. And the road whereon

they travelled went down beside the banks of a smooth and placid river,

very bright and shining like to polished silver; and there were willows

and aspens upon the one hand and smooth fields of ripening grain upon

the other.

Now at that time the Lady Elaine was suffering great pangs of sickness,

wherefore she said to those in attendance upon her: "Dear friends, it is

well that we have come hither to this place. For this is a house of

peace, and I am very sick. Wherefore I pray you let me rest here till

God shall have dealt with me in my travails in such a manner as He shall

see fit."

So spake the Lady Elaine, and upon that command they bare her to the

gates of the priory. And they bare her into the priory and laid her upon

a soft couch and there she had such ease in her sickness as they could

bring to her at that time.

* * * * *

Meantime Sir Launcelot abided at the court of the King, very heavy of

heart and very sorrowful of spirit. For his soul was dragged this way

and that way. And whether he had gone away from the court or whether he

had stayed as he did, in either case he would have been most unhappy.

Yet to his present unhappiness was added many pangs like to the pangs of

remorse. For he could not tell whether he did altogether ill or somewhat

well in remaining at the King's court as he did.

Yet ever his thoughts went out after the Lady Elaine and he said to

himself: "So soon as I can escape from this place with courtesy to the

Queen, I will follow after her." Wherefore had he wist that even then

she was lying so sick at the priory in the forest, it may well be

believed that he would not have tarried a single moment longer, but

would have flown to her upon the wings of the wind.

But Sir Launcelot knew not how it was with his lady, and so God was even

then preparing a great punishment for him for which he might never hope

to escape for as long as he should live.