THE lady Guenever having come to Camelot, the king was wedded to her
with great solemnity at the Church of St. Stephen there. He had caused
it to be proclaimed through all the land that on the day of his marriage
he would give to any man any gift that he might ask that was within his
means and not unreasonable. When the high feast was spread before the
king and queen, and all the Knights of the Round Table were in their
places, there entered the hall a poor man in mean attire, and with him
a young man, whose clothing also was mean, but he was tall and straight,
with a comely and noble countenance. The old man went up to the king,
and craved a boon at his hands; and King Arthur said he would grant him
anything that did not impair his realm or his honour.
“Sir,” said the old man, “I ask nothing but that you should make my son
here a knight.”
“That is a great thing which thou askest of me,” said the king. “What is
thy name?”
“My name is Aries the cowherd,” answered the man. And when the king
questioned him further, he said that his son’s name was Tor, and that
the lad would never labour in the field as his younger brethren would,
but was always throwing darts, or watching jousts, and that it was
because Tor had entreated him that he had now come to ask this boon
of the king. So, after some further question, King Arthur made Tor a
knight, and then asked Merlin if he would prove a good knight.
“He ought to be,” answered Merlin, “for he is come of as good a knight
as any that now lives. He is the son of King Pellinore.”
At first the cowherd would not believe this; but when inquiry was made,
it was found that Merlin had spoken the truth. Even then King Pellinore
came into the hall, and when he learned that the new knight was his own
son, he was passing glad. Then Merlin led King Pellinore to one of the
highest seats at the Round Table, and said that he was more worthy
to sit therein than any other that was there. At this Gawaine and his
brothers were exceedingly angry, for they hated Pellinore, because he
had slain their father, King Lot, and they plotted together how they
might take vengeance upon him, but agreed that they could not accomplish
it at that time. Then, in fulfilment of the promise he had given, King
Arthur made his nephew Gawaine a knight.
Afterwards the king and queen and all the knights went to dinner; and as
they sat, a white hart came running into the hall, and close after him
a white hound, and behind, thirty couples of black hounds that made a
great cry. The hart ran round the tables, and as he came near the door
again the white hound leaped up at him and bit him sorely. Then the hart
gave a great bound, and overthrew a knight that sat near the door, and
so escaped out of the hall. Immediately the knight arose, took the white
hound in his arms, mounted his horse, and rode away with it. Then a lady
mounted on a white palfrey came into the hall, and cried aloud to the
king--
“Sir, suffer me not to have this despite, for the white hound that was
taken by that knight is mine.”
“I will not meddle in the matter,” said King Arthur. Then suddenly a
knight well armed rode into the hall, and seized the lady, and carried
her away, albeit she made a great outcry. When she was gone, Merlin
said that unless these adventures were taken up, it would be a great
dishonour; and at his advice Sir Gawaine was appointed to follow the
hart, and bring it to the court; Sir Tor, the knight with the hound; and
King Pellinore, the knight with the lady. Each of the three knights,
at the king’s command, undertook the quest that was given him; and they
armed themselves, and set forth without delay.
Sir Gawaine followed at a hard pace after the hart, and his brother
Gaheris, who was not yet made knight, went with him as his squire.
When they had gone some little way, they came to where two knights were
fighting very stoutly on horseback. Sir Gawaine rode between them, and
asked what their quarrel was.
“It is in truth a simple matter,” answered one of the knights, “the more
as we are brothers bom; but it happened that as we were riding forth
this morning we saw a white hart pass, with a white hound in full
cry after him. Both of us desired to go after them, to take up the
adventure. I claimed it because I am the elder; but my brother said it
should belong to him, because he was the better knight; and thereupon we
fought, to determine whether he or I was the better.”
“That is not a quarrel on which two brothers ought to fight,” said
Gawaine. “But you must understand that the quest of the hart has been
given to me by King Arthur; and if you will not yield to me, and do
according to my ordinance, you shall have to do with me.”
Then the brothers yielded to him, for they were wearied with fighting,
and had lost much blood. And Gawaine bade them go and yield themselves
to King Arthur, and tell him that they had been sent by the knight who
followed the quest of the white hart. Their names were Sir Surluse and
Sir Brian of the Forest.
Sir Gawaine and Gaheris went on their way, and presently they came
within sight of the white hart, that ran but slowly, because the hound
had wounded him; and the black hounds were still following him in full
cry. In front there was a great river, and the hart sprang into it, and
swam across. Gawaine was preparing to follow; but on the other side of
the river there stood an armed knight, who called out to Sir Gawaine
that if he came over the river after the hart, he must needs joust with
him.
“As for that,” answered Gawaine, “I will not fail to undertake whatever
may befall in the quest I am in.”
So he and Gaheris swam their horses over the river, and on the farther
side the knight and Gawaine met in full course, and Gawaine smote the
other off his horse. Then he bade him yield; but the knight drew his
sword, and dared him to fight on foot. Gawaine got off his horse, and
both fought together furiously; but Gawaine struck the stranger so hard
on the helm that the sword edge pierced even to his brain, and he fell
down dead.
“Ah!” said Gaheris, “that was a mighty stroke for a young knight.”
So Gawaine and his brother left the knight, whose name was Allardin of
the Isles, lying there dead on the sward, and followed after the white
hart; and presently they saw it take refuge in the court of a castle, of
which the gate stood wide open. They rode in after the hart, and Gaheris
let slip at it three couples of greyhounds that they had brought with
them, and these dogs pulled down the hart, and slew it. Straightway
there came a knight out of a chamber, with a sword in his hand, and he
killed two of the hounds in sight of Sir Gawaine, and chased the others
out of the castle. Then he took up the hart, and lamented over it, for
his lady had given it to him, and he swore that he would avenge its
death. So he went in and armed himself, and came forth fiercely to
Gawaine.
“Why have you slain my hounds?” said Gawaine. “They only did after their
kind. I had rather you had wreaked your wrath on me than on the dumb
beasts.”
“Well,” answered the knight, “I have avenged me on your hounds, and so I
will on you ere long.”
Down sprang Sir Gawaine from his horse, nothing loath, and they fought
together with their swords a great while, and both had many wounds.
But at last Gawaine struck down the other knight, whose name was Sir
Ablemore of the Morass, and then he yielded, and cried for mercy, and
begged Sir Gawaine, as he was a knight and a gentleman, to save his
life. But Gawaine answered him, “Thou shalt die for slaying my hounds.”
The knight again entreated him, offering to make ample amends. Sir
Gawaine would not listen, and unlaced Ablemore’s helmet, with intent
to strike off his head. Suddenly Sir Ablemore’s lady came out of her
chamber, and threw herself over her lord to shield him, and Gawaine,
who had not seen her, struck off her head by misadventure instead of the
knight’s.
“Alas!” said Gaheris, “that was foully and shamefully done. The shame
of that blow will not soon quit you. Moreover, you should give mercy to
those who ask it; for a knight without mercy is without worship.”
Sir Gawaine was so bewildered at his unhappy deed that he could not for
the moment either speak or move; but then he said to Ablemore, “Arise; I
will give thee mercy.”
“I care not for mercy now,” answered the conquered knight, “for thou
hast slain her whom I loved more than all else on earth.”
“I repent it,” said Gawaine; “but I struck not at her but at thee.”
Then he charged the knight to go to King Arthur, and confess how it was
that he was sent. Sir Ablemore said that he cared not whether he lived
or died; nevertheless, for dread of death he swore to do according to
Sir Gawaines will, and to bear one of the dead greyhounds before him on
his horse, and the other behind him.
Gawaine and Gaheris went into the castle and prepared to rest there, but
all at once four well-armed knights came in and assailed them fiercely,
giving Gawaine many bitter reproaches for having slain the lady. Gawaine
and Gaheris withstood them as well as they could; but the knights were
dangerous fighters on foot, and one of them with a bow gave Gawaine a
wound through the arm, so that at last the two were in great peril of
their lives. Then four ladies came, and begged the four knights to spare
Gawaine and Gaheris; and to this the knights assented, only the brothers
were obliged to yield themselves prisoners. Afterwards, when the knights
knew that Gawaine was nephew to King Arthur, they permitted him to go
free, out of love for the king, and gave him the head of the white hart,
because that was in his quest. But they made him swear also to bear the
dead lady with him, her head hanging at his neck, and her body before
him on his horse. In this guise Gawaine returned to Camelot, and Gaheris
with him. When he arrived he was sworn to tell all his adventures
truthfully, and this he did. King Arthur and Queen Guenever were greatly
displeased that he had refused mercy to the knight Sir Ablemore, and
through that had killed the lady; and the queen gave sentence that ever
while he lived Gawaine should be an especial champion of ladies, and
undertake their quarrels, and also that he should never refuse mercy to
him that asked it. This Gawaine swore to perform, on the books of the
Four Evangelists.
The second of the three knights to whom a quest had been assigned was
Sir Tor, who was appointed to follow the knight with the hound After he
had ridden fast till he was a long way from Camelot, he came to a place
where there were two pavilions set up by the road-side, and two great
spears leaning against the pavilions. Sir Tor was riding on, intent only
to follow his quest, when suddenly a dwarf started up from underneath a
tree, and smote his horse on the head with a staff, so that it reared up
and went backward a full spear’s length.
“Why dost thou smite my horse?” asked Tor.
“Because thou must not pass this way before jousting with the two
knights that are in these pavilions.”
“I have no time for jousting,” said Sir Tor. “I am in a quest which I
must follow.”
“Thou shalt not pass otherwise,” answered the dwarf, and then he blew
loudly on a horn. Forthwith an armed knight came, and got on his horse
that was standing near, took a spear, and rode at Sir Tor, who met
him with such force that he smote him from his horse. Then the knight
yielded, but said,--
“Sir, I have a companion in yon pavilion who will assuredly have to do
with you.”
“He shall be welcome,” answered Tor. And when this knight came, he
overthrew him also, as he had done the other. And he made both of them
swear to go to King Arthur at Camelot, and say they were sent by
the knight that went after the hound. Their names were Sir Felot of
Languedoc and Sir Petipace of Winchelsea. But the dwarf said he would
serve no more recreant knights, and begged Sir Tor to let him go with
him.
“I know,” he said, “that you are seeking the knight that took the white
hound, and I can bring you where he is.”
Sir Tor was glad to hear this, and bade the dwarf take a horse and
follow him. The dwarf led him to an open glade in the forest, close by
a priory; and in the glade were standing two pavilions, at one of which
hung a white and at the other a red shield. In one of the pavilions
three damsels were lying asleep; in the other was a fair lady, also
sleeping, with the white hound at her feet. When the hound saw Sir Tor
it bayed so lustily that the lady awoke; but the knight took it in his
arms, and gave it in charge of the dwarf.
“Sir Knight,” said the lady, “you will not take my hound from me?’
“That must I do,” answered Tor. “For no other cause am I come from King
Arthur’s court to this place.”
“Well,” said she, “take her if you will; but you will not go far ere you
are overtaken by one that will give you evil handling.”
“I shall abide whatever adventure cometh,” replied Sir Tor; and he rode
away.
It was now even-song, and he and the dwarf abode for the night in a
hermitage, where they had but rough lodging. On the morrow they rode
toward Camelot, but soon they heard one calling loudly on them:--
“Knight, yield me the hound which you took from my lady.” Sir Tor turned
his horse, and saw a seemly knight riding to him, well armed, with his
spear in rest. The two came together so fiercely that they went to the
ground, man and horse. Then they drew their swords, and rushed on each
other like lions; and they smote many heavy strokes, till the armour of
both was cut in many places, and both were wounded. But at the last the
strange knight began to weary, and so Tor pressed him still harder, and
at last smote him to the earth.
“Yield thee to my mercy, Sir Knight,” quoth Tor.
“That will I never do while life lasteth and the soul is in my body,”
said the other, “unless thou give me up my lady’s hound.”
“That I will not grant thee,” answered Sir Tor; “for I am sworn to bring
to King Arthur the hound and thee, or else slay thee.”
Even as he spoke there came a damsel riding hard on a palfrey, and she
cried with a loud voice on Sir Tor to grant her a boon. He answered that
he would.
“Then,” said the damsel, “I ask the head of this false knight Abellius,
for he is the worst knight that liveth, and the greatest murderer.”
“That is a gift that I should be loath to grant,” replied Tor. “If this
knight has committed any trespass against you, let him make amends.”
“Alas!” she said, “he cannot make amends, even if he would. Lately he
fought with my brother, who was a good knight and a gentle, and got the
better of him; and though I kneeled half an hour in the mire, entreating
him to spare my brother’s life, he would have no mercy, but struck off
his head. Therefore, as thou art a true knight, I require thee to give
me my gift, for he is the man of most cruelty living, and a destroyer of
good knights.”
When the damsel had spoken thus, Abellius was afraid, and he yielded,
and began to beg for mercy. But Tor said that he could not now grant it,
after his pledge to the damsel, more especially as Abellius had refused
mercy before when he might have had it. So he unlaced his helmet and
took it off; and then Abellius rose up suddenly and fled. But Sir Tor
ran after him quickly, and struck off his head from behind. After that,
the damsel made much of Sir Tor, and took him to her husband’s castle
hard by, where he had good entertainment till the next day. Then he
rode to Camelot, where he was joyfully received; and when he told his
adventures, the king and all the court gave him great praise. But said
Merlin--
“These things are nothing to what he shall do; he will prove as noble
a knight as any now living, and gentle, and courteous, and full of
good parts, and passing true of his promise, and he shall never do any
outrage.”
When King Arthur heard this, he gave Sir Tor an earldom of lands that
had fallen to him. And so ended the quest of the hound.
In the meanwhile, King Pellinore had followed the knight that carried
away the lady. As he was passing through a forest, he saw a damsel
sitting by a well, and a wounded knight lying in her arms. When she saw
Pellinore, she cried to him, “Help me, Knight, for Christ’s sake!” But
he was so eager in his quest that he would not stay. And when the lady
saw that, she prayed that God might yet send him as much need of help
as she had. Presently the wounded knight died, and the lady, for pure
sorrow, slew herself with his sword.
King Pellinore rode on, and presently he came to a valley where were
two pavilions. One of the knights of the pavilions was fighting with him
that had carried off the lady; for he said she was his kinswoman, and
she should not be carried off against her will The lady was standing the
while in charge of two squires. Pellinore went to her and said,--
“Fair lady, you must come with me to King Arthur’s court.”
“Sir Knight,” said one of the squires, “those two knights are fighting
for this lady. I pray you go to them and tell your errand, and you may
have the lady if they be agreed.”
King Pellinore assented, and he went between the two knights, and asked
them why they fought.
“Sir Knight,” said one of them, “I will tell you. Even now this knight,
that is called Sir Ontzlake of Westland, was passing by, carrying away
the lady you see yonder. She is my near kinswoman; and when I heard her
complain that she was with him against her will, I fought with him to
release her.”
“Well,” said the other, “the lady is mine, for I won her this day by
force of arms in King Arthur’s court.”
“Fie, Knight!” answered Pellinore, “that is untruly said. You came in
all suddenly as we were at the feast, and took away the lady before any
man could make him ready. But it is my quest to take her back again, and
you also, unless one of us abide in the field. If, therefore, you choose
to fight for her, you must fight with me, and I will defend her.”
“Well,” said the knight, “make you ready, and I shall strive with you to
the uttermost.”
Now Sir Ontzlake was on foot; so King Pellinore was getting off his
horse to meet him evenly in the field, when Ontzlake came up craftily
and ran the horse through with his sword, saying,--
“Now thou art on foot as well as we.”
King Pellinore was exceedingly angry at this, for the horse was a good
one. He drew his sword, put his shield before him, and cried,--
“Knight, keep well thy head, for thou shalt have a buffet for slaying my
horse.”
The other was ready, and they fought; but it was not for long, for
Pellinore gave Sir Ontzlake so stern a stroke on the helmet that he
clove his head to the chin, and he fell dead to the earth. When the
other knight saw that, he would not fight, but yielded to Pellinore’s
mercy, only asking that his kinswoman should be put to no shame. This
Pellinore promised, and the knight entertained him in his pavilion till
the next day, and then gave him a good horse in place of that which
Ontzlake had killed. So Pellinore and the lady rode toward Camelot. When
they passed by the place where the wounded knight and the lady had been,
both their bodies had been eaten by wild beasts, all save the lady’s
head. At this Pellinore mourned, for he knew that he might have saved
them if he would. When they came to the court, they were heartily
welcomed, and King Pellinore told his adventures, as the other two
knights had done. Then Pellinore was greatly blamed because he had not
stayed to help the wounded knight and the lady, and he confessed that
he repented sorely that he had been too eager in his quest to do so.
Thereupon Merlin told him that he had good reason to repent, for
the lady that had called to him was his own daughter; and he warned
Pellinore that even as he had failed that knight and lady, his own
nearest friend should fail him in the hour of his greatest need.
And thus ended the three quests of the hart, and the hound, and the
lady, which were the first adventures that befell in King Arthur’s court
after he was married to the Lady Guenever.