night Enid slept a little; and at midnight she arose, and placed all
Geraint's armor together, so that it might be ready to put on. And
although fearful of her errand, she came to the side of Geraint's bed;
and she spoke to him softly and gently, saying, "My lord, arise, and
clothe thyself; for these were the words of the earl to me, and his
intention concerning me." So she told Geraint [that the earl was coming
with a troop of followers on the morrow to take her away by force].
And, although he was wroth with her, he took warning, and clothed
himself. And she lighted a candle, that he might have light to do so.
"Leave there the candle," said he, "and desire the man of the house to
come here." Then she went, and the man of the house came to him. "Dost
thou know how much I owe thee?" asked Geraint.
"I think thou owest but little."
"Take the eleven horses and the eleven suits of armor."
"Heaven reward thee, lord!" said he. "But I spent not the value of one
suit of armor upon thee."
"For that reason," said he, "thou wilt be the richer. And now wilt thou
come to guide me out of the town?"
"I will gladly," said he. "And in which direction dost thou intend to
go?"
"I wish to leave the town by a different way from that by which I
entered it." So the man of the lodgings accompanied him as far as he
desired. Then he bade the maiden to go on before him. And she did so,
and went straight forward, and his host returned home. And he had only
just reached his house, when, behold, the greatest tumult approached
that was ever heard. And when he looked out, he saw fourscore knights
in complete armor around the house, with the Earl Dwrm at their head.
"Where is the knight that was here?" said the earl.
"By thy hand," said he, "he went hence some time ago."
"Wherefore, villain," said he, "didst thou let him go without informing
me?"
"My lord, thou didst not command me to do so, else would I not have
allowed him to depart."
"What way dost thou think that he took?"
"I know not, except that he went along the high road."
And they turned their horses' heads that way, and seeing the tracks
of the horses upon the high road, they followed. And when the maiden
beheld the dawning of the day, she looked behind her, and saw vast
clouds of dust coming nearer and nearer to her. And thereupon she
became uneasy, and she thought that it was the earl and his host coming
after them. And thereupon she beheld a knight appearing through the
mist. "By my faith!" said she, "though he should slay me, it were
better for me to receive my death at his hands than to see him killed
without warning him.--My lord," she said to him, "seest thou yonder man
hastening after thee, and many others with him?"
"I do see him," said he; "and, in despite of all my orders, I see that
thou wilt never keep silence." Then he turned upon the knight, and with
the first thrust he threw him down under his horse's feet. And as long
as there remained one of the fourscore knights, he overthrew every one
of them at the first onset. And from the weakest to the strongest, they
all attacked him one after the other, except the earl. And last of all
the earl came against him also. And he broke his lance, and then he
broke a second. But Geraint turned upon him, and struck him with his
lance upon the centre of his shield, so that by that single thrust the
shield was split, and all his armor broken, and he himself was brought
over his horse's crupper to the ground, and was in peril of his life.
And Geraint drew near to him; and at the noise of the trampling of his
horse the earl revived.
"Mercy, lord!" said he to Geraint.
And Geraint granted him mercy. But through the hardness of the ground
where they had fallen, and the violence of the stroke which they had
received, there was not a single knight amongst them that escaped
without receiving a fall mortally severe, and grievously painful, and
desperately wounding, from the hand of Geraint.
And Geraint journeyed along the high road that was before him, and the
maiden went on first; and near them they beheld a valley, which was
the fairest ever seen, and which had a large river running through it;
and there was a bridge over the river, and the high road led to the
bridge. And above the bridge, upon the opposite side of the river, they
beheld a fortified town, the fairest ever seen. And as they approached
the bridge, Geraint saw coming towards him from a thick copse a man
mounted upon a large and lofty steed, even of pace, and spirited,
though tractable. "Ah, knight!" said Geraint, "whence comest thou?"
"I come," said he, "from the valley below us."
"Canst thou tell me," said Geraint, "who is the owner of this fair
valley and yonder walled town?"
"I will tell thee willingly," said he. "Gwiffert Petit he is called by
the Franks; but the Cymry call him the Little King."
"Can I go by yonder bridge," said Geraint, "and by the lower highway
that is beneath the town?"
Said the knight, "Thou canst not go by his tower on the other side of
the bridge, unless thou dost intend to combat him; because it is his
custom to encounter every knight that comes upon his lands."
"I declare to Heaven," said Geraint, "that I will, nevertheless, pursue
my journey that way."
"If thou dost so," said the knight, "thou wilt probably meet with shame
and disgrace in reward for thy daring."
Then Geraint proceeded along the road that led to the town; and the
road brought him to a ground that was hard and rugged and high and
ridgy. And as he journeyed thus, he beheld a knight following him upon
a war-horse strong and large and proudly-stepping and wide-hoofed and
broad-chested. And he never saw a man of smaller stature than he who
was upon the horse. And both he and his horse were completely armed.
When he had overtaken Geraint, he said to him, "Tell me, chieftain,
whether it is through ignorance or through presumption that thou
seekest to insult my dignity and to infringe my rules."
"Nay," answered Geraint, "I knew not this road was forbid to any."
"Thou didst know it," said the other. "Come with me to my court, to
give me satisfaction."
"That will I not, by my faith!" said Geraint. "I would not go even to
thy lord's court, excepting Arthur were thy lord."
"By the hand of Arthur himself," said the knight, "I will have
satisfaction of thee, or receive my overthrow at thy hands!" And
immediately they charged one another. And a squire of his came to
serve him with lances as he broke them. And they gave each other such
hard and severe strokes, that their shields lost all their color. But
it was very difficult for Geraint to fight with him on account of his
small size; for he was hardly able to get a full aim at him with all
the efforts he could make. And they fought thus until their horses were
brought down upon their knees. And at length Geraint threw the knight
headlong to the ground; and then they fought on foot, and they gave one
another blows so boldly fierce, so frequent, and so severely powerful,
that their helmets were pierced, and their skullcaps were broken, and
their arms were shattered, and the light of their eyes was darkened
by sweat and blood. At the last Geraint became enraged, and he called
to him all his strength. And boldly angry, and swiftly resolute, and
furiously determined, he lifted up his sword, and struck him on the
crown of his head a blow so mortally painful, so violent, so fierce,
and so penetrating, that it cut through all his head armor, and his
skin, and his flesh, until it wounded the very bone, and the sword flew
out of the hand of the Little King to the furthest end of the plain,
and he besought Geraint that he would have mercy and compassion upon
him.
"Though thou hast been neither courteous nor just," said Geraint, "thou
shalt have mercy, upon condition that thou wilt become my ally, and
engage never to fight against me again, but to come to my assistance
whenever thou hearest of my being in trouble."
"This will I do gladly, lord," said he. So he pledged him his faith
thereof. "And now, lord, come with me," said he, "to my court yonder,
to recover from thy weariness and fatigue."
"That will I not, by Heaven!" said he.
Then Gwiffert Petit beheld Enid where she stood, and it grieved him to
see one of her noble mien appear so deeply afflicted. And he said to
Geraint, "My lord, thou doest wrong not to take repose, and refresh
thyself a while; for, if thou meetest with any difficulty in thy
present condition, it will not be easy for thee to surmount it."
But Geraint would do no other than proceed on his journey, and he
mounted his horse in pain, and all covered with blood. And the maiden
went on first, and they proceeded towards the wood which they saw
before them.
And the heat of the sun was very great, and through the blood and
sweat, Geraint's armor cleaved to his flesh. And when they came into
the wood, he stood under a tree, to avoid the sun's heat; and his
wounds pained him more than they had done at the time when he received
them. And the maiden stood under another tree. And, lo! they heard the
sound of horns, and a tumultuous noise; and the occasion of it was that
Arthur and his company had come down to the wood. And while Geraint was
considering which way he should go to avoid them, behold, he was espied
by a foot-page, who was an attendant on the steward of the household;
and he went to the steward, and told him what kind of man he had seen
in the wood.
[Illustration: Geraint and the Maiden at the Edge of the Wood.]
Then the steward caused his horse to be saddled, and he took his lance
and his shield, and went to the place where Geraint was. "Ah, knight!"
said he, "what dost thou here?"
"I am standing under a shady tree to avoid the heat and the rays of the
sun."
"Wherefore is thy journey? and who art thou?"
"I seek adventures, and go where I list."
"Indeed!" said Kai. "Then come with me to see Arthur, who is here hard
by."
"That will I not, by Heaven!" said Geraint.
"Thou must needs come," said Kai. Then Geraint knew who he was; but Kai
did not know Geraint. And Kai attacked Geraint as best he could. And
Geraint became wroth, and he struck him with the shaft of his lance, so
that he rolled headlong to the ground. But chastisement worse than this
would he not inflict on him.
Scared and wildly Kai arose, and he mounted his horse, and went back to
his lodging. And thence he proceeded to Gwalchmai's tent. "O sir!" said
he to Gwalchmai, "I was told by one of the attendants, that he saw in
the wood above a wounded knight, having on battered armor; and if thou
dost right, thou wilt go and see if this be true."
"I care not if I do so," said Gwalchmai.
"Take, then, thy horse, and some of thy armor," said Kai; "for I hear
that he is not over courteous to those who approach him."
So Gwalchmai took his spear and his shield, and mounted his horse, and
came to the spot where Geraint was. "Sir knight," said he, "wherefore
is thy journey?"
"I journey for my own pleasure, and to seek the adventures of the
world."
"Wilt thou tell me who thou art? or wilt thou come and visit Arthur,
who is near at hand?"
"I will make no alliance with thee, nor will I go and visit Arthur,"
said he. And he knew that it was Gwalchmai; but Gwalchmai knew him not.
"I purpose not to leave thee," said Gwalchmai, "till I know who thou
art." And he charged him with his lance, and struck him on his shield,
so that the shaft was shivered into splinters, and their horses were
front to front. Then Gwalchmai gazed fixedly upon him, and he knew him.
"Ah, Geraint!" said he, "is it thou that art here?"
"I am not Geraint," said he.
"Geraint thou art, by Heaven!" he replied; "and a wretched and insane
expedition is this." Then he looked around, and beheld Enid, and he
welcomed her gladly. "Geraint," said Gwalchmai, "come thou and see
Arthur: he is thy lord and thy cousin."
"I will not," said he; "for I am not in a fit state to go and see
any one." Thereupon, behold one of the pages came after Gwalchmai
to speak to him. So he sent him to apprise Arthur that Geraint was
there wounded, and that he would not go to visit him, and that it was
pitiable to see the plight that he was in. And this he did without
Geraint's knowledge, inasmuch as he spoke in a whisper to the page.
"Entreat Arthur," said he, "to have his tent brought near to the road,
for he will not meet him willingly, and it is not easy to compel him
in the mood he is in." So the page came to Arthur, and told him this.
And he caused his tent to be removed unto the side of the road. And the
maiden rejoiced in her heart. And Gwalchmai led Geraint onwards along
the road, till they came to the place where Arthur was encamped, and
the pages were pitching his tent by the roadside.
"Lord," said Geraint, "all hail unto thee!"
"Heaven prosper thee! And who art thou?" said Arthur.
"It is Geraint," said Gwalchmai; "and of his own free will would he not
come to meet thee."
"Verily," said Arthur, "he is bereft of his reason."
Then came Enid, and saluted Arthur. "Heaven protect thee!" said he. And
thereupon he caused one of the pages to take her from her horse. "Alas,
Enid!" said Arthur, "what expedition is this?"
"I know not, lord," said she, "save that it behooves me to journey by
the same road that he journeys."
"My lord," said Geraint, "with thy permission we will depart."
"Whither wilt thou go?" said Arthur. "Thou canst not proceed now,
unless it be unto thy death."
"He will not suffer himself to be invited by me," said Gwalchmai.
"But by me he will," said Arthur; "and moreover he does not go from
here until he is healed."
"I had rather, lord," said Geraint, "that thou wouldest let me go
forth."
"That will I not, I declare to Heaven!" said he. Then he caused a
maiden to be sent for to conduct Enid to the tent where Gwenhwyvar's
chamber was. And Gwenhwyvar and all her women were joyful at her
coming; and they took off her riding-dress, and placed other garments
upon her. Arthur also called Kadyrieith, and ordered him to pitch a
tent for Geraint and the physicians; and he enjoined him to provide him
with abundance of all that might be requisite for him. And Kadyrieith
did as he had commanded him. And Morgan Tud and his disciples were
brought to Geraint.
And Arthur and his hosts remained there nearly a month, whilst Geraint
was being healed. And when he was fully recovered, Geraint came to
Arthur, and asked his permission to depart.
"I know not if thou art quite well."
"In truth I am, lord," said Geraint.
"I shall not believe thee concerning that, but the physicians that were
with thee." So Arthur caused the physicians to be summoned to him, and
asked them if it were true.
"It is true, lord," said Morgan Tud. So the next day Arthur permitted
him to go forth, and he pursued his journey. And on the same day Arthur
removed thence.
And Geraint desired Enid to go on, and to keep before him, as she had
formerly done. And she went forward along the high road. And as they
journeyed thus, they heard an exceeding loud wailing near to them.
"Stay thou here," said he, "and I will go and see what is the cause of
this wailing."
"I will," said she.
Then he went forward unto an open glade that was near the road. And in
the glade he saw two horses, one having a man's saddle, and the other
a woman's saddle upon it. And, behold, there was a knight lying dead
in his armor, and a young damsel in a riding-dress standing over him,
lamenting. "Ah, lady!" said Geraint, "what hath befallen thee?"
"Behold," she answered, "I journeyed here with my beloved husband,
when, lo! three giants came upon us, and without any cause in the world
they slew him."
"Which way went they hence?" said Geraint.
"Yonder by the high road," she replied.
So he returned to Enid. "Go," said he, "to the lady that is below
yonder, and await me there till I come."
She was sad when he ordered her to do thus; but nevertheless she went
to the damsel, whom it was ruth to hear, and she felt certain that
Geraint would never return. Meanwhile Geraint followed the giants, and
overtook them. And each of them was greater of stature than three other
men, and a huge club was on the shoulder of each. Then he rushed upon
one of them, and thrust his lance through his body. And having drawn
it forth again, he pierced another of them through likewise. But the
third turned upon him, and struck him with his club; so that he split
his shield, and crushed his shoulder, and opened his wounds anew, and
all his blood began to flow from him. But Geraint drew his sword, and
attacked the giant, and gave him a blow on the crown of his head so
severe and fierce and violent, that his head and his neck were split
down to his shoulders, and he fell dead. So Geraint left him thus, and
returned to Enid. And when he saw her, he fell down lifeless from his
horse. Piercing and loud and thrilling was the cry that Enid uttered.
And she came and stood over him where he had fallen. And at the sound
of her cries came the Earl of Limours, and the host that journeyed with
him, whom her lamentations brought out of their road. And the earl said
to Enid, "Alas, lady! what hath befallen thee?"
"Ah, good sir!" said she, "the only man I have loved, or ever shall
love, is slain."
Then he said to the other, "And what is the cause of thy grief?"
"They have slain my beloved husband also," said she.
"And who was it that slew them?"
"Some giants," she answered, "slew my best-beloved; and the other
knight went in pursuit of them, and came back in the state thou seest,
his blood flowing excessively. But it appears to me that he did not
leave the giants without killing some of them, if not all." The earl
caused the knight that was dead to be buried, but he thought that there
still remained some life in Geraint; and to see if he yet would live,
he had him carried with him in the hollow of his shield, and upon a
bier. And the two damsels went to the court; and when they arrived
there, Geraint was placed upon a litter-couch in front of the table
that was in the hall. Then they all took off their travelling-gear,
and the earl besought Enid to do the same, and to clothe her self in
other garments.
"I will not, by Heaven!" said she.
"Ah, lady!" said he, "be not so sorrowful for this matter."
"It were hard to persuade me to be otherwise," said she.
"I will act towards thee in such wise, that thou needest not be
sorrowful, whether yonder knight live or die. Behold, a good earldom,
together with myself, will I bestow on thee. Be therefore happy and
joyful."
"I declare to Heaven," said she, "that henceforth I shall never be
joyful while I live."
"Come, then," said he, "and eat."
"No, by Heaven, I will not," she answered.
"But, by Heaven, thou shalt," said he. So he took her with him to the
table, against her will, and many times desired her to eat.
"I call Heaven to witness," said she, "that I will not eat until the
man that is upon yonder bier shall eat likewise."
"Thou canst not fulfil that," said the earl. "Yonder man is dead
already."
"I will prove that I can," said she.
Then he offered her a goblet of liquor. "Drink this goblet," he said,
"and it will cause thee to change thy mind."
"Evil betide me," she answered, "if I drink aught until he drink also."
"Truly," said the earl, "it is of no more avail for me to be gentle
with thee than ungentle." And he gave her a box in the ear. Thereupon
she raised a loud and piercing shriek; and her lamentations were much
greater than they had been before, for she considered in her mind,
that, had Geraint been alive, he durst not have struck her thus.
But behold, at the sound of her cry, Geraint revived from his swoon,
and he sat up on the bier, and, finding his sword in the hollow of his
shield, he rushed to the place where the earl was, and struck him a
fiercely-wounding, severely-venomous, and sternly-smiting blow upon the
crown of his head, so that he clove him in twain, until his sword was
stayed by the table. Then all left the board, and fled away. And this
was not so much through fear of the living as through the dread they
felt at seeing the dead man rise up to slay them. And Geraint looked
upon Enid, and he was grieved for two causes: one was to see that Enid
had lost her color and her wonted aspect; and the other, to know that
she was in the right. "Lady," said he, "knowest thou where our horses
are?"
"I know, lord, where thy horse is," she replied; "but I know not where
is the other. Thy horse is in the house yonder."
So he went to the house, and brought forth his horse, and mounted him,
and took up Enid from the ground, and placed her upon the horse with
him. And he rode forward. And their road lay between two hedges. And
the night was gaining on the day. And lo! they saw behind them the
shafts of spears betwixt them and the sky, and they heard the trampling
of horses and the noise of a host approaching. "I hear something
following us," said he, "and I will put thee on the other side of
the hedge." And thus he did. And thereupon, behold, a knight pricked
towards him, and couched his lance.
When Enid saw this, she cried out, saying, "O chieftain! whoever thou
art, what renown wilt thou gain by slaying a dead man?"
"O Heaven!" said he, "is it Geraint?"
"Yes, in truth," said she. "And who art thou?"
"I am the Little King," he answered, "coming to thy assistance; for I
heard that thou wast in trouble. And if thou hadst followed my advice,
none of these hardships would have befallen thee."
"Nothing can happen," said Geraint, "without the will of Heaven, though
much good results from counsel."
"Yes," said the Little King; "and I know good counsel for thee now.
Come with me to the court of a son-in-law of my sister, which is near
here, and thou shalt have the best medical assistance in the kingdom."
"I will do so gladly," said Geraint. And Enid was placed upon the
horse of one of the Little King's squires, and they went forward to
the baron's palace. And they were received there with gladness, and
they met with hospitality and attention. And the next morning they went
to seek physicians, and it was not long before they came; and they
attended Geraint until he was perfectly well. And while Geraint was
under medical care, the Little King caused his armor to be repaired,
until it was as good as it had ever been. And they remained there a
fortnight and a month.
Then the Little King said to Geraint, "Now will we go towards my own
court, to take rest and amuse ourselves."
"Not so," said Geraint. "We will first journey for one day more, and
return again."
"With all my heart!" said the Little King. "Do thou go then." And early
in the day they set forth. And more gladly and more joyfully did Enid
journey with them that day than she had ever done. And they came to the
main road. And when they reached a place where the road divided in two,
they beheld a man on foot coming towards them along one of these roads;
and Gwiffert asked the man whence he came.
"I come," said he, "from an errand in the country."
"Tell me," said Geraint: "which is the best for me to follow of these
two roads?"
"That is the best for thee to follow," answered he; "for if thou goest
by this one, thou wilt never return. Below us," said he, "there is a
hedge of mist, and within it are enchanted games; and no one who has
gone there has ever returned. And the court of the Earl Owain is there,
and he permits no one to go to lodge in the town, except he will go to
his court."
"I declare to Heaven," said Geraint, "that we will take the lower
road." And they went along it until they came to the town. And they
took the fairest and pleasantest place in the town for their lodging.
And while they were thus, behold, a young man came to them, and greeted
them. "Heaven be propitious to thee!" said they.
"Good sirs," said he, "what preparations are you making here?"
"We are taking up our lodging," said they, "to pass the night."
"It is not the custom with him who owns the town," he answered, "to
permit any of gentle birth, unless they come to stay in his court, to
abide here therefore: come ye to the court."
"We will come gladly," said Geraint. And they went with the page, and
they were joyfully received. And the earl came to the hall to meet
them, and he commanded the tables to be laid. And they washed, and sat
down. And this is the order in which they sat: Geraint on one side of
the earl, and Enid on the other side, and next to Enid the Little King,
and then the countess next to Geraint; and all after that as became
their rank. Then Geraint recollected the games, and thought that he
should not go to them; and on that account he did not eat. Then the
earl looked upon Geraint, and considered; and he bethought him that his
not eating was because of the games, and it grieved him that he had
ever established those games, were it only on account of losing such a
youth as Geraint. And if Geraint had asked him to abolish the games, he
would gladly have done so.