wine into a golden cup, and spake unto the king, "I pray the right of
the first joust that be ridden to-morrow morn, for it pertaineth unto
mine office!" Quoth the king, "I were loth to refuse the first gift
prayed of me here in this land." "'Tis well said," quoth the lord of
Lys. And the king said to the butler, "Go, eat with my nephew," and he
did so right gladly.
So soon as supper was done, and they had washed, swiftly they
commanded their arms to be brought, nor will I lie to ye; thereafter
might ye have seen a great testing, many greaves of iron laced on,
limbs outstretched, feet bent; squires were bidden don the hauberks
that they might look well to them, and add straps or take away--all
were fain to see that naught was lacking, but all in fair and knightly
order. Ye never saw a folk thus busy themselves. They made merry with
the king the while, and prayed of him in sport to say the day he would
allot to each, that their pain might be the sooner ended. "Nay,
lords," quoth Arthur, "I would fain keep ye the longer in dread." Thus
when they had made sport enow, and it was nightfall, they drank, and
betook them to rest.
On the morrow, without delay, they arose at sunrise, and betook them
to a chapel in a wood, nigh to a meadow where were buried all the good
knights slain before the castle, whether strangers or men of the land.
And so soon as the priest had said the Mass of the Holy Ghost, and the
service was ended, they turned them again, and made ready for meat in
the king's pavilion, and the king and all his knights ate together
right joyfully. When they had eaten they arose, and armed Lucains the
butler well and courteously. The vest he ware under his hauberk was of
purple broidered with gold. Then they brought him his horse and his
shield, and he mounted right glad and joyful, and they brought unto
him his pennon. Thus he departed from the king and his comrades, and
set spurs to his steed, and stayed not till he came unto the field of
battle, whither they betook them and demanded joust of those of the
castle.
Masters, at the four corners of the meadow were planted four olive
trees, to show the bounds of the field, and he was held for vanquished
who should first pass the boundary of the olives. Since he had come
thither armed, it befell not Lucains to await long, but short space
after he had entered the field he saw ride proudly forth from the
castle a great knight, mounted on a roan steed, right well appointed
of arms and accoutrements. He came at full speed to the meadow, and
swiftly, as befitted, each lowered his lance, and set spurs to his
steed, and rode the one against the other. Great blows they dealt on
each other's shield, and the knight smote Lucains so fiercely that he
brake his lance all to shivers, and the butler smote back in such wise
that he bare him out of the saddle on to the ground. Then he took the
steed, and turned him, leaving his foeman afoot, and came gladly and
blithely again to the pavilion. Quoth Bran de Lis, "Certes, butler,
the siege had been raised had ye brought yon knight captive, nor would
ye have had further travail, for the quest on which ye came hither had
been achieved, and ere nightfall Sir Giflet had been delivered up, for
yonder is so good a knight they had gladly made the exchange!"
When the butler heard this he was ill-pleased, and he tarried no
longer at the pavilion, but leaving the steed gat him back to the
meadow, nor turned again for the king, who many a time called upon
him. Then from the gateway rode forth a great knight bearing his
pennon, and came spurring into the meadow, and when the butler saw him
he rode against him, and smote him so fiercely on the shield that the
shaft of apple-wood brake, and the knight smote him back with so
strong a lance that he bare him to the ground. Lucains sprang up
swiftly, and thought to take the splinters from his arm without
delaying, but the knight ran upon him fiercely, and he defended
himself as best he might, though wounded, but since the blade was yet
in him, whether he would or no, he must needs yield himself prisoner,
as one who might do no more. Thus he yielded up his sword to the
knight, who led him with him to the castle, but first he drew out the
blade carefully, stanching the blood, and binding up the wound.
Very wrathful was the king when he saw his butler thus led thence;
then quoth Sir Gawain, "Certes, an Lucains were whole I should rejoice
in that he is captive, for now will our comrade Giflet, the brave and
valiant, who hath been there in durance four years, learn such
tidings of us as shall make him glad and joyful. The butler is a right
gallant knight, and it may chance to any that he be overthrown and
wounded. I have no mind to blame him for such ill hap." Sir Bran de
Lis answered, "Fair Sir, an God help me, he hath overthrown one of
their men, and I know no better among their ten thousand knights." So
spake Sir Bran de Lis, but for all that was he somewhat vexed
concerning the butler, in that he had reproached him for not having
taken the knight captive, for he thought in his heart that for these
words of his, and for naught else, had Lucains been taken.
Then he came unto the king, and besought him for the great love he
bare him to grant him the morrow's joust; but though he prayed him
straitly the king was loth to yield, but answered that in no wise
would he grant his request save that he was fain not to anger him by
reason of the true faith that he bare unto him. "So God help me, fair
friend; I have it in my mind that I were but ill sped did I chance to
lose ye!"
"Sire, think not of that; 'tis ill done to summon evil, an God will
this shall not befall so long as I live; doubt ye not, Sire, but grant
me the fight freely, ere others ask it!"
Then the king quoth, "Have your desire, since ye so will." With that
they gat them to meat in the tent, but that day a butler was lacking
to them.
Into that selfsame chamber where that good knight, Giflet fis Do, had
long lain, they led Lucains prisoner, and Giflet when he beheld him
failed not to know him, but sprang up, and embraced him, and asked
straightway, "Tell me, gentle friend, in what land were ye made
captive?" Then Lucains told him the truth from beginning to end, how
the king had set siege to the castle, and was lodged without, "And he
hath sworn he will not depart hence, nor lift the siege, till that he
hath freed ye." Giflet was right joyful when he heard this, and he
spake again, "Sir Lucains, greatly do I desire to hear from ye tidings
of the best knights in the world, even the companions of the Round
Table; 'tis over long since I saw them, or heard speak of them." And
the butler made answer, "Sir, by all the Saints in the calendar, such
an one is dead, such an one made captive, this and that knight are
hale and whole, and to the places of the dead many a good knight and
true hath been elect." And Giflet cried, "Ah, God, how minished is
that goodly company; I know not the half of them who yet live!"
Quoth Lucains, "Know of a truth that all greatly desire to have ye
again, nor will they know joy in their hearts till that ye be once
more of their fellowship."
At these words they brought them food, and they washed, and ate, and
when 'twas time they gat them to rest, and passed the night in great
joy of each other's company. But the night was short, since Pentecost
was past, and the feast of S. John, when the days are the longest in
the year.
On the morrow the sun rose fine and fair, for the weather was calm and
clear, and the king arose betimes with his comrades. First they gat
them to the chapel and heard Mass, and then dinner was made ready,
since to eat ere noon is healthful for the brain. The dinner was rich
and plentiful, they sat them down gaily and ate with speed, they had
larded venison (for of deer was there no lack), and so soon as they
had dined the chamberlain armed the lord of Lys right richly, on a
fair flowered carpet, and the king himself laced his helmet. Then Sir
Bran de Lis mounted and hung the shield about his neck, and took his
lance whereon was a pennon, and spurred straight for the meadow, which
he knew full well.
Then from the gates of the castle he beheld issue forth a knight on a
gallant steed, right fittingly armed, who rode at full speed to the
meadow where Sir Bran de Lis awaited his coming. And so soon as each
beheld the other they spurred swiftly forward, and I tell ye of a
truth that they smote each other on the shield so that their lances
brake, and they came together with such force that they hurled each
other to the ground; but they lay not there for long, but sprang up
anon, and laid to with their swords, dealing each other mighty blows
on the gleaming helmets, for the worser of the twain was a gallant
knight. But he of the castle was sore vexed, in that he was wounded
while Bran de Lis was yet whole, and passing light on his feet, so
that he pressed him sore, in so much that he might not abide in any
place. By force Sir Bran de Lis brought his foeman to his knees, and
ere he might rise he must perforce yield himself captive. Thus he led
him to the pavilion, and made gift of him to Arthur, who received him
well, and thanked the lord of Lis right heartily.
Then the king bade them make a lodge of boughs, with curtains round
about, whereto they led the wounded knight to rest, for much need had
he of repose. King Arthur and his men disarmed Sir Bran de Lis gaily,
and he washed himself, and they made great sport all day long. And
when it came to the freshness of the evening they went forth to
disport themselves; many a valiant knight sat there, round about the
king, in the shade of an olive tree.
Then they heard the sound of those who blew loudly on the horn and
played upon the flageolet; there was no instrument befitting a watch
the music of which was not to be heard within the castle, and much joy
they made therein. The king was the more wakeful by night in that he
took pleasure in the fair melody which the watchmen who sounded the
horn made in answering the one the other.
Beside the lord of Lys sat Kay, who hearkened to the music, nor might
he long keep silence, but must needs speak his mind. "Sire," quoth he,
"by Saint Denis, meseemeth the joust be forgotten, for this eve none
hath demanded it; the king hath neither companion nor peer who hath so
far prayed it, I wot none be desirous thereof!"
"Kay," quoth the King, "I grant thee the joust."
"Sire," quoth Kay, "by Saint Martin, I were liever to handle a spit
than a spear to-morrow; I thank ye for naught! Nevertheless, Sire, an
such be your pleasure I will do it, by the faith I owe to my lord Sir
Gawain." Then all laughed at Kay's words, and when they had made sport
enow of him they gat them back to the tent.
Thus the night passed, and on the morrow at dawn, ere prime had rung,
the king hearkened Mass, and when they had dined they armed the
seneschal, and he mounted, and took his shield, and departed from them
swiftly. No sooner had he come to the meadow when a knight, right well
armed, came forth from the castle, and rode on to the field. They
smote each other on the shields so that they fell to the ground, and
springing up lightly they fell to with their sharp swords; right
dourly they pressed on each other, and smote sounding blows on the
helms. He of the castle struck wrathfully at Kay, and the seneschal
caught the blow, and the knight smote again on the boss of the shield
so that the blade brake, notwithstanding he had so pressed on the
seneschal that he made him by force to pass the boundary of the four
olives, which stood at the corners of the field.
There the knight stayed him, and turned him back to his steed which
was in the midst of the meadow, and remounted, and took Kay's horse,
for he saw well 'twas a good steed, and led it away, none gainsaying
him. Kay went his way back, and knew not that he had been deceived,
but deemed he had won the day, though in sooth he was vanquished.
Then the knights spake unto the king, "Sire, let us go to meet Kay,
and make merry over him; 'twill be rare sport to mislead him!" The
king was right willing, so they went in company towards the seneschal.
The king went ahead, as one wise and courteous, and spake gently,
"Kay, hast thou come from far? Has mischance befallen thee?" and Kay,
who was ever sharp and ready of tongue, answered, "Sire, let me be; ye
have naught wherewith to reproach me. I have vanquished one of their
knights, but he hath taken my horse; the field is mine, for I have
conquered it; and he who hath ridden hence hath the worse!" All held
their peace, and laughed not.
"Sir, are ye in need of help?" quoth Tor fis Ares. And then the others
spake; "Seneschal, are ye wounded?" "Methinks ye limp somewhat," quoth
Sir Gawain.
"Kay, hand me your shield," said Sir Ywain. "Right valiantly have ye
approved yourself, marvellous were the blows I saw ye deal! God be
thanked that ye did thus well!" With that he took the shield, and hung
it around his own neck. Each joined in the sport as best he might, and
Kay was right well aware thereof.
Then he spake to Sir Ywain, "Sir, I will grant ye to-morrow so much as
I have won to-day, the joust and the field shall ye have in exchange
for my shield which ye bear. Ye can do well, an ye will, and I were
fain to repay ye in such wise as I may."
Those who heard might not refrain their mirth, and in merry mood they
led him to the tent, and disarmed him, and the lord of Lys said, "Sir
Kay, ye passed the boundary of the four olive trees, and he who first
passes betwixt them is held for vanquished." And Kay answered, "May
be, Sir, by the faith I owe the King of Heaven an ye know the differ
'twixt entry and exit 'tis more than I may do; sure, 'tis all one, for
there where one cometh in the other goeth out!"
Suddenly there rang forth from the castle and the minster a peal so
great and glad that ye might scarce hear God thunder, and the king
asked wherefore the bells rang thus.
Then Bran de Lis spake, "I will tell ye, Sire: 'tis Saturday to-day,
and now that noon be past they within will do naught against ye, come
what may. In this land is the Mother of God more honoured than
elsewhere in Christendom; know of a truth that ye shall presently see
knights and ladies, burgesses and other folk, clad in their best,
betake them to the minster; they go to hear Vespers, and do honour to
Our Lady. Thus it is from noon on Saturday till Tierce on Monday, when
Mass is sung, and the bells chimed throughout the burg, then they get
them to their tasks again; the minstrels and other folk. I tell ye
without fail till then shall no joust be ridden; to-morrow, an ye
will, ye may go forth to hunt in the forest."
The king praised the custom much, and spent the night with a light
heart until the morn, when he arose, and with his knights betook him
to the woods, and all day long the forest rang to the sound of the
huntsman's horn.
Now it chanced that Sir Gawain beheld a great stag, which two of his
hounds had severed from the rest of the herd, and he followed hard
after the chase till that the quarry was pulled down in a clearing.
There he slew and quartered it, and gave their portion to the dogs,
but would take with him naught save the back and sides. So he rode on
fairly, and without annoy, the hounds running ahead, till, as he went
his way, he heard nigh at hand a hawk cry loudly. Then he turned him
quickly towards the sound, and came on to a wide and dusky path, and
followed it speedily to a dwelling, the fairest he had found in any
land wherein he had sojourned.
'Twas set in the midst of a clearing, and no wish or thought of man
might devise aught that was lacking unto it. There was a fair hall and
a strong tower, 'twas set round about with palisades, and there was a
good drawbridge over the moat, which was wide enow, and full of
running water. At the entry of the bridge was a pine-tree, and
beneath, on a fair carpet, sat a knight; never had ye seen one so
tall, or so proud of bearing.
Sir Gawain rode straight and fast to him, but he stirred no whit for
his coming, but sat still, frowning and thoughtful. Sir Gawain
marvelled at his stature, and spake very courteously, "Sir, God save
ye!" But the stranger answered nor loud nor low, having no mind for
speech. Thrice Sir Gawain greeted him, but he answered not, and the
good knight stayed his steed full before him, but he made no semblance
of seeing him.
Quoth Sir Gawain, "Ha, God, who hath made man with Thine own hand,
wherefore didst Thou make this man so fair if he be deaf and dumb? So
tall is he, and so well fashioned he is like unto a giant. An I had a
comrade with me I would lead him hence, even unto the king; methinks
he would thank me well, for he would look on him as a marvel!" And he
bethought him that he would even bear the knight hence with him on his
steed. Thus he laid his venison beneath a tree, and bent him downwards
from his saddlebow, and took the other by the shoulders, and raised
him a little.
Then the knight clapped hand to his side, but his sword was lacking,
and he cried, "Who may ye be? It lacked but little and I had slain ye
with my fist, since ye have snatched me from death; had I my sword
here 'twere red with your blood! Get ye hence, vassal, and leave me to
my death."
Then he sat him again under the tree, and fell a-musing, even as when
Sir Gawain found him. And that good knight, without more ado, reloaded
his venison and turned him back, leaving the knight sad and sorrowful.
Scarce had Sir Gawain ridden half a league when he saw coming towards
him a maiden, fair and courteous, on a great Norman palfrey; nor king
nor count had been better horsed. The bridle, the harness, the
trappings of her steed were beyond price, nor might I tell ye how
richly the maiden was clad. Her vesture was of cloth of gold, the
buttons of Moorish work, wrought in silk with golden pendants. The
lady smote her steed oft and again, and rode past Sir Gawain with
never a word of greeting.
Sir Gawain marvelled much at her haste, and that she had failed to
speak with him, and he turned him about, and rode after, crying "Stay
a little, Lady!" but she answered not, but made the more haste.
Then Sir Gawain overtook her, and rode alongside, saying, "Lady, stay,
and tell me whither ye be bound." Then she made answer, "Sir, for
God's sake, hinder me not, for an ye do I tell ye of a truth I shall
have slain the best and the fairest knight in any castle of
Christendom!"
"What," quoth Sir Gawain, "have ye slain him with your own hands?"
"I, sir? God forbid, but I made covenant with him yesterday that I
would be with him ere noon, and now have I failed of my compact. He
awaiteth me at a tower near by, mine own true love, the best knight
in the world!"
"Certes, Lady, he is yet alive, of that am I true witness; 'twas but
now he well nigh dealt me a buffet with his fist! Make not such
haste!"
"Fair sir, are ye sure and certain?"
"Yea, Lady, but he was sore bemused."
"Then know of a truth, Sir Knight, that he may no longer be alive, and
I may not tarry." With that she struck her steed and rode off apace.
Sir Gawain gazed after her, and it vexed him much that he had not
asked more concerning the knight, whence he came, his land and his
name, but knew neither beginning nor end of his story.
Thus he went on his way, and came again to the pavilion where his
companions awaited him, sore perplexed at his delay, and were right
joyful when they beheld him. Then straightway he told them the
adventure, even as it had chanced, and when the lord of Lys heard it
he said unto the King, "Sire, the knight is the Rich Soudoier, he who
maintaineth all this goodly following and seignorie; and so much doth
he love the maiden whom he calleth his lady and his love, that all
men say he will die an he win her not."
As he spake they beheld a great cloud of dust arise toward the forest,
and there rode past so great a company of folk there cannot have been
less than twenty thousand; there was left in the city not a soul who
might well stir thence who went not forth of right good will toward
the forest. 'Twas nigh unto nightfall ere all had entered therein.
Then the king asked whither all this folk were bound, and Bran de Lis
answered, "Sire, they go to meet their lord, and to do him honour, for
never before this hath he led his lady hither. I tell ye of a truth
that each one of his barons will dub three new knights, to honour and
pleasure him, for so have they sworn, and for that doth he owe them
right good will."
What more may I tell ye? All night they held great feast through the
city, with many lights in castle, tower, and hall. They blazed upon
the walls, the trees, and round about the meadows, till that the great
burg seemed all aflame, and all night long they heard the sound of
song and loud rejoicing.
Then the king betook him to rest, and at dawn Sir Ywain prayed as
gift the joust which Kay had given unto him. The king made no
gainsaying, but after meat they armed their comrade well and
fittingly, and he mounted quickly, and took shield and lance; nor did
he long await a foe, for there rode forth from the castle one well
armed, on a strong and swift steed, and spurred upon Sir Ywain. He
smote him so that his lance brake, and Sir Ywain smote him again with
such force that he bare him to earth ere that his lance failed. Then
he rode upon him with unsheathed sword, and by weight of his steed
bare him to earth when he had fain arisen, and trod him underfoot so
hardly that, whether he would or no, he must needs yield. Then Sir
Ywain took his pledge, and led him without more ado to the pavilion,
and delivered him to the king.
Such was the day's gain, but know that 'twas one of the new made
knights, not of the mesnie of the Rich Soudoier. And when he was
disarmed the king spake unto him in the hearing of all his men, and
said, "Fair friend, whence do ye come, and of what land may ye be?"
Then he answered, "Sire, I am of Ireland, and son to the Count
Brangelis, and ever have I served the lady of the Rich Soudoier. She
bade me carve before her, and my lord for love of her yestermorn made
me knight, and as guerdon for my service they granted me the joust;
yet, but for my lady who prayed for me this grace, they had not given
it to me, since within the walls there be many a good man and true who
was sore vexed thereat."
"Friend," quoth Sir Gawain, "know ye, perchance, the which of them
shall joust on the morrow?"
"Certes, Sir, I should know right well; 'tis the lord of the castle
himself who shall be first on the field, and I will tell ye how I know
this. 'Tis the custom therein that each morn the maidens mount the
walls, and she who first beholds the armed knight take the field, 'tis
her knight who shall ride forth against him. Yestereven my lady
assembled all the maidens and prayed of them that they would let her
alone mount the wall--thus shall the joust be as I tell ye."
Straightway Sir Gawain sprang to his feet, and went before the king,
and demanded the joust, but Arthur forbade him saying, "Fair nephew,
ye shall not go to-morrow, but later, ere it be my turn, 'tis for us
twain to ride the last jousts; ye shall have it when all save I have
proved themselves."
"Sire, Sire, I shall be sore shamed an ye deny me this gift; never
more shall I be joyful, nor will I ride joust in this land, but will
get me hence alone!"
Quoth the king, "An it be thus ye may have it." And Sir Gawain
answered, "I thank ye, Sire."
Thus they passed the night, and at daybreak, when the dew lay thick
upon the grass, Sir Gawain arose, and Sir Ywain with him. Know that
the morning was so fine, so fair and clear, as if 'twere made to be
gazed on. Then he who was no coward washed face and hands and feet in
the dew, and gat him back to the pavilion. There they brought him a
wadded vest, of purple, bordered with samite, and he donned it, and
fastened on his armlets deftly.
And ere he was fully armed the king his uncle had risen, and they gat
them to Mass, and when Mass was said, to meat. When they had well
dined they bade bring thither the armour, and Sir Gawain sat him on a
rich carpet, spread on the ground in the midst of the tent, and there
was never a knight but stood around uncovered, till that he had armed
him at his leisure with all that pertaineth to assault and defence, so
that he had naught to do save but to set forth.
Then they led unto him his steed, all covered with a rich trapping,
and he mounted, and sat thereon, so goodly to look upon that never
might ye hear speak of a fairer knight. Excalibur, his good sword, did
King Arthur hand to him, and he girt it round him as he sat on the
saddle, lightly, so that it vexed him not. Then he took shield and
lance, and departed from them, making great speed for the meadow.