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_Edition d'Elite_
Historical Tales
The Romance of Reality
By
CHARLES MORRIS
_Author of "Half-Hours with the Best American Authors," "Tales
from the Dramatists," etc._
IN FIFTEEN VOLUMES
Volume XIV
King Arthur
2
J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY
PHILADELPHIA AND LONDON
Copyright, 1891, by J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY.
Copyright, 1904, by J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY.
Copyright, 1908, by J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY.
[Illustration: CONWAY CASTLE.]
CONTENTS TO VOLUME II.
BOOK VIII.
TRISTRAM AND ISOLDE AT JOYOUS GARD.
CHAPTER. PAGE.
I.--THE TREACHERY OF KING MARK 9
II.--HOW TRISTRAM BEFOOLED DINADAN 23
III.--ON THE ROAD TO LONAZEP 36
IV.--HOW PALAMIDES FARED AT THE RED CITY 46
V.--THE TOURNAMENT AT LONAZEP 55
VI.--THE SECOND DAY OF THE TOURNAMENT 70
VII.--THE WOES OF TWO LOVERS 83
VIII.--THE RIVALRY OF TRISTRAM AND PALAMIDES 92
BOOK IX.
THE QUEST OF THE HOLY GRAIL.
I.--THE ENCHANTED CASTLE OF KING PELLAM 117
II.--THE MARVEL OF THE FLOATING SWORD 125
III.--HOW GALAHAD GOT HIS SHIELD 141
IV.--THE TEMPTATION OF SIR PERCIVALE 155
V.--THE STRANGE ADVENTURES OF SIR BORS 173
VI.--THE ADVENTURE OF THE MAGIC SHIP 195
VII.--HOW LANCELOT SAW THE SANGREAL 207
VIII.--THE DEEDS OF THE THREE CHOSEN KNIGHTS 217
BOOK X.
THE LOVE OF LANCELOT AND GUENEVER.
I.--THE POISONING OF SIR PATRISE 226
II.--THE LILY MAID OF ASTOLAT 239
III.--HOW ELAINE DIED FOR LOVE 251
IV.--THE CHEVALIER OF THE CART 260
BOOK XI.
THE HAND OF DESTINY.
I.--THE TRAPPING OF THE LION 280
II.--THE RESCUE OF THE QUEEN 288
III.--THE RETURN OF GUENEVER 297
IV.--THE WAR BETWEEN ARTHUR AND LANCELOT 314
V.--THE STING OF THE VIPER 323
VI.--THE PASSING OF ARTHUR 335
VII.--THE DEATH OF LANCELOT AND GUENEVER 339
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
KING ARTHUR. VOL. II.
PAGE
CONWAY CASTLE _Frontispiece._
ST. MICHAEL'S MOUNT, CORNWALL 10
THE ROUND TABLE OF KING ARTHUR 16
MARRIAGE OF SIR TRISTRAM 24
THE ASSAULT OF SIR TRISTRAM 42
SIR TRISTRAM AT JOYOUS GARD 55
THE DEPARTURE 93
ON THE QUEST OF THE HOLY GRAIL 118
JOSEPH OF ARIMATHEA 134
OATH OF KNIGHTHOOD 144
SIR GALAHAD FIGHTING THE SEVEN SINS 153
AN OLD AND HALF-RUINED CHAPEL 183
THE MAGIC SHIP 198
SIR GALAHAD'S QUEST OF THE HOLY GRAIL 217
SALISBURY CATHEDRAL 225
"YOU ARE WELCOME, BOTH," SAID SIR BERNARD 241
ELAINE 259
SIR LANCELOT IN THE QUEEN'S CHAMBER 287
THE TOWER OF LONDON 324
THE OLD KITCHEN OF GLASTONBURY ABBEY 345
* * * * *
KING ARTHUR
AND THE
KNIGHTS OF THE ROUND TABLE.
BOOK VIII.
TRISTRAM AND ISOLDE AT JOYOUS GARD
CHAPTER I.
THE TREACHERY OF KING MARK.
The story of Tristram's valorous deeds, and of the high honor in which
he was held at Camelot, in good time came to Cornwall, where it filled
King Mark's soul with revengeful fury, and stirred the heart of La Belle
Isolde to the warmest love. The coward king, indeed, in his jealous
hatred of his nephew, set out in disguise for England, with murderous
designs against Tristram should an opportunity occur.
Many things happened to him there, and he was brought into deep
disgrace, but the story of his adventures may be passed over in brief
review, lest the reader should find it wearisome.
Not far had he ridden on English soil before he met with Dinadan, who,
in his jesting humor, soon played him a merry trick. For he arrayed
Dagonet, the king's fool, in a suit of armor, which he made Mark believe
was Lancelot's. Thus prepared, Dagonet rode to meet him and challenged
him to a joust. But King Mark, on seeing what he fancied was Lancelot's
shield, turned and fled at headlong speed, followed by the fool and his
comrades with hunting cries and laughter till the forest rang with the
noise.
Escaping at length from this merry chase, the trembling dastard made his
way to Camelot, where he hoped some chance would arise to aid him in his
murderous designs on Tristram. But a knight of his own train, named Sir
Amant, had arrived there before him, and accused him of treason to the
king, without telling who he was.
"This is a charge that must be settled by wager of battle," said King
Arthur. "The quarrel is between you; you must decide it with sword and
spear."
In the battle that followed, Sir Amant, by unlucky fortune, was run
through, and fell from his horse with a mortal wound.
"Heaven has decided in my favor," cried King Mark. "But here I shall no
longer stay, for it does not seem a safe harbor for honest knights."
He thereupon rode away, fearing that Dinadan would reveal his name. Yet
not far had he gone before Lancelot came in furious haste after him.
[Illustration: ST. MICHAEL'S MOUNT, CORNWALL.]
"Turn again, thou recreant king and knight," he loudly called. "To
Arthur's court you must return, whether it is your will or not. We know
you, villain. Sir Amant has told your name and purpose; and, by my
faith, I am strongly moved to kill you on the spot."
"Fair sir," asked King Mark, "what is your name?"
"My name is Lancelot du Lake. Defend yourself, dog and dastard."
On hearing this dreaded name, and seeing Lancelot riding upon him with
spear in rest, King Mark tumbled like a sack of grain from his saddle to
the earth, crying in terror, "I yield me, Sir Lancelot! I yield me!" and
begging piteously for mercy.
"Thou villain!" thundered Lancelot, "I would give much to deal thee one
buffet for the love of Tristram and Isolde. Mount, dog, and follow me."
Mark hastened to obey, and was thus brought like a slave back to
Arthur's court, where he made such prayers and promises that in the end
the king forgave him, but only on condition that he would enter into
accord with Tristram, and remove from him the sentence of banishment.
All this King Mark volubly promised and swore to abide by, though a
false heart underlay his fair words. But Tristram gladly accepted the
proffered truce with his old enemy, for his heart burned with desire to
see his lady love again.
Soon afterwards Dinadan, with Dagonet and his companions, came to court,
and great was the laughter and jesting at King Mark when they told the
story of his flight from Arthur's fool.
"This is all very well for you stay-at-homes," cried Mark; "but even a
fool in Lancelot's armor is not to be played with. As it was, Dagonet
paid for his masquerade, for he met a knight who brought him like a log
to the ground, and all these laughing fellows with him."
"Who was that?" asked King Arthur.
"I can tell you," said Dinadan. "It was Sir Palamides. I followed him
through the forest, and a lively time we had in company."
"Aha! then you have had adventures."
"Rare ones. We met a knight before Morgan le Fay's castle. You know the
custom there, to let no knight pass without a hard fight for it. This
stranger made havoc with the custom, for he overthrew ten of your
sister's knights, and killed some of them. He afterwards tilted with
Palamides for offering to help him, and gave that doughty fellow a sore
wound."
"Who was this mighty champion? Not Lancelot or Tristram?" asked the
king, looking around.
"On our faith we had no hand in it," they both answered.
"It was the knight next to them in renown," answered Dinadan.
"Lamorak of Wales?"
"No less. And, my faith, a sturdy fellow he is. I left him and Palamides
the best of friends."
"I hope, then, to see the pair of them at next week's tournament," said
the king.
Alas for Lamorak! Better for him far had he kept away from that
tournament. His gallant career was near its end, for treachery and
hatred were soon to seal his fate. This sorrowful story it is now our
sad duty to tell.
Lamorak had long loved Margause, the queen of Orkney, Arthur's sister
and the mother of Gawaine and his brethren. For this they hated him, and
with treacherous intent invited their mother to a castle near Camelot,
as a lure to her lover. Soon after the tournament, at which Lamorak won
the prize of valor, and redoubled the hatred of Gawaine and his brothers
by overcoming them in the fray, word was brought to the victorious
knight that Margause was near at hand and wished to see him.
With a lover's ardor, he hastened to the castle where she was, but, as
they sat in the queen's apartment in conversation, the door was suddenly
flung open, and Gaheris, one of the murderous brethren, burst in, full
armed and with a naked sword in his hand. Rushing in fury on the
unsuspecting lovers, with one dreadful blow he struck off his mother's
head, crimsoning Lamorak with her blood. He next assailed Lamorak, who,
being unarmed, was forced to fly for his life, and barely escaped.
The tidings of this dread affair filled the land with dismay, and many
of the good knights of Arthur's court threatened reprisal. Arthur
himself was full of wrath at the death of his sister. Yet those were
days when law ruled not, but force was master, and retribution only came
from the strong hand and the ready sword. This was Lamorak's quarrel,
and the king, though he vowed to protect him from his foes, declared
that the good knight of Wales must seek retribution with his own hand.
He gained death, alas! instead of revenge, for his foes proved too
vigilant for him, and overcame him by vile treachery. Watching his
movements, they lay in ambush for him at a difficult place, and as he
was passing, unsuspicious of danger, they set suddenly upon him, slew
his horse, and assailed him on foot.
Gawaine, Mordred, and Gaheris formed this ambush, for the noble-minded
Gareth had refused to take part in their murderous plot; and with
desperate fury they assaulted the noble Welsh knight, who, for three
hours, defended himself against their utmost strength. But at the last
Mordred dealt him a death-blow from behind, and when he fell in death
the three murders hewed him with their swords till scarce a trace of the
human form was left.
Thus perished one of the noblest of Arthur's knights, and thus was done
one of the most villanous deeds of blood ever known in those days of
chivalrous war.
Before the death of Lamorak another event happened at Arthur's court
which must here be told, for it was marvellous in itself, and had in it
the promise of wondrous future deeds.
One day there came to the court at Camelot a knight attended by a young
squire. When he had disarmed he went to the king and asked him to give
the honor of knighthood to his squire.
"What claim has he to it?" asked the king. "Of what lineage is he?"
"He is the youngest son of King Pellinore, and brother to Sir Lamorak.
He is my brother also; for my name is Aglavale, and I am of the same
descent."
"What is his name?"
"Percivale."
"Then for my love of Lamorak, and the love I bore your father, he shall
be made a knight to-morrow."
So when the morrow dawned, the king ordered that the youth should be
brought into the great hall, and there he knighted him, dealing him the
accolade with his good sword Excalibur.
And so the day passed on till the dinner-hour, when the king seated
himself at the head of the table, while down its sides were many knights
of prowess and renown. Percivale, the new-made knight, was given a seat
among the squires and the untried knights, who sat at the lower end of
the great dining-table.
But in the midst of their dinner an event of great strangeness occurred.
For there came into the hall one of the queen's maidens, who was of high
birth, but who had been born dumb, and in all her life had spoken no
word. Straight across the hall she walked, while all gazed at her in
mute surprise, till she came to where Percivale sat. Then she took him
by the hand, and spoke in a voice that rang through the hall with the
clearness of a trumpet,--
"Arise, Sir Percivale, thou noble knight and warrior of God's own
choosing. Arise and come with me."
He rose in deep surprise, while all the others sat in dumb wonder at
this miracle. To the Round Table she led him, and to the right side of
the seat perilous, in which no knight had hitherto dared to sit.
"Fair knight, take here your seat;" she said. "This seat belongs to you,
and to none other, and shall be yours until a greater than you shall
come."
This said, she departed and asked for a priest. Then was she confessed
and given the sacrament, and forthwith died. But the king and all his
court gazed with wonder on Sir Percivale, and asked themselves what all
this meant, and for what great career God had picked out this youthful
knight, for such a miracle no man there had ever seen before.
Meanwhile, King Mark had gone back to Cornwall, and with him went Sir
Tristram, at King Arthur's request, though not till Arthur had made the
Cornish king swear on Holy Scripture to do his guest no harm, but hold
him in honor and esteem.
Lancelot, however, was full of dread and anger when he heard what had
occurred, and he told King Mark plainly that if he did mischief to Sir
Tristram he would slay him with his own hands.
"Bear this well in mind, sir king," he said, "for I have a way of
keeping my word."
"I have sworn before King Arthur to treat him honorably," answered Mark.
"I, too, have a way of keeping my word."
"A way, I doubt not," said Lancelot, scornfully; "but not my way. Your
reputation for truth needs mending. And all men know for what you came
into this country. Therefore, take heed what you do."
[Illustration: Copyright 1895 by E. A. Abbey; from a Copely print
copyright 1897 by Curtis and Cameron.
THE ROUND TABLE OF KING ARTHUR.]
Then Mark and Tristram departed, and soon after they reached Cornwall a
damsel was sent to Camelot with news of their safe arrival, and bearing
letters from Tristram to Arthur and Lancelot. These they answered and
sent the damsel back, the burden of Lancelot's letter being, "Beware of
King Fox, for his ways are ways of wiles."
They also sent letters to King Mark, threatening him if he should do
aught to Tristram's injury. These letters worked harm only, for they
roused the evil spirit in the Cornish king's soul, stirring him up to
anger and thirst for revenge. He thereupon wrote to Arthur, bidding him
to meddle with his own concerns, and to take heed to his wife and his
knights, which would give him work enough to do. As for Sir Tristram, he
said that he held him to be his mortal enemy.
He wrote also to Queen Guenever, his letter being full of shameful
charges of illicit relations with Sir Lancelot, and dishonor to her
lord, the king. Full of wrath at these vile charges, Guenever took the
letter to Lancelot, who was half beside himself with anger on reading
it.
"You cannot get at him to make him eat his words," said Dinadan, whom
Lancelot took into his confidence. "And if you seek to bring him to
terms with pen and ink, you will find that his villany will get the
better of your honesty. Yet there are other ways of dealing with
cowardly curs. Leave him to me; I will make him wince. I will write a
mocking lay of King Mark and his doings, and will send a harper to sing
it before him at his court. When this noble king has heard my song I
fancy he will admit that there are other ways of gaining revenge besides
writing scurrilous letters."
A stinging lay, indeed, was that which Dinadan composed. When done he
taught it to a harper named Eliot, who in his turn taught it to other
harpers, and these, by the orders of Arthur and Lancelot, went into
Wales and Cornwall to sing it everywhere.
Meanwhile King Mark's crown had been in great danger. For his country
had been invaded by an army from Session, led by a noted warrior named
Elias, who drove the forces of Cornwall from the field and besieged the
king in his castle of Tintagil. And now Tristram came nobly to the
rescue. At the head of the Cornish forces he drove back the besiegers
with heavy loss, and challenged Elias to a single combat to end the war.
The challenge was accepted, and a long and furious combat followed, but
in the end Elias was slain, and the remnant of his army forced to
surrender.
This great service added to the seeming accord between Tristram and the
king, but in his heart Mark nursed all his old bitterness, and hated him
the more that he had helped him. His secret fury soon found occasion to
flame to the surface. For at the feast which was given in honor of the
victory, Eliot, the harper, appeared, and sang before the king and his
lords the lay that Dinadan had made.
This was so full of ridicule and scorn of King Mark that he leaped from
his seat in a fury of wrath before the harper had half finished.
"Thou villanous twanger of strings!" he cried. "What hound sent you into
this land to insult me with your scurrilous songs?"
"I am a minstrel," said Eliot, "and must obey the orders of my lord.
Sir Dinadan made this song, if you would know, and bade me sing it
here."
"That jesting fool!" cried Mark, in wrath. "As for you, fellow, you
shall go free through minstrels' license. But if you lose any time in
getting out of this country you may find that Cornish air is not good
for you."
The harper took this advice and hastened away, bearing letters from
Tristram to Lancelot and Dinadan. But King Mark turned the weight of his
anger against Tristram, whom he believed had instigated this insult,
with the design to set all the nobles of his own court laughing at him.
And well he knew that the villanous lay would be sung throughout the
land, and that he would be made the jest of all the kingdom.
"They have their sport now," he said. "Mine will come. Tristram of
Lyonesse shall pay dearly for this insult. And all that hold with him
shall learn that King Mark of Cornwall is no child's bauble to be played
with."
The evil-minded king was not long in putting his project in execution.
At a tournament which was held soon afterwards Tristram was badly
wounded, and King Mark, with great show of sorrow, had him borne to a
castle near by, where he took him under his own care as nurse and leech.
Here he gave him a sleeping draught, and had him borne while slumbering
to another castle, where he was placed in a strong prison cell, under
the charge of stern keepers.
The disappearance of Tristram made a great stir in the kingdom. La Belle
Isolde, fearing treachery, went to a faithful knight named Sir Sadok,
and begged him to try and discover what had become of the missing
knight. Sadok set himself diligently to work; and soon learned that
Tristram was held captive in the castle of Lyonesse. Then he went to
Dinas, the seneschal, and others, and told them what had been done, at
which they broke into open rebellion against King Mark, and took
possession of all the towns and castles in the country of Lyonesse,
filling them with their followers.
But while the rebellious army was preparing to march on Tintagil, and
force King Mark to set free his prisoner, Tristram was delivered by the
young knight Sir Percivale, who had come thither in search of
adventures, and had heard of King Mark's base deed. Great was the joy
between these noble knights, and Tristram said,--
"Will you abide in these marches, Sir Percivale? If so, I will keep you
company."
"Nay, dear friend, I cannot tarry here. Duty calls me into Wales."
But before leaving Cornwall he went to King Mark, told him what he had
done, and threatened him with the revenge of all honorable knights if he
sought again to injure his noble nephew.
"What would you have me do?" asked the king. "Shall I harbor a man who
openly makes love to my wife and queen?"
"Is there any shame in a nephew showing an open affection for his
uncle's wife?" asked Percivale. "No man will dare say that so noble a
warrior as Sir Tristram would go beyond the borders of sinless love, or
will dare accuse the virtuous lady La Belle Isolde of lack of chastity.
You have let jealousy run away with your wisdom, King Mark."
So saying, he departed; but his words had little effect on King Mark's
mind. No sooner had Percivale gone than he began new devices to gratify
his hatred of his nephew. He sent word to Dinas, the seneschal, under
oath, that he intended to go to the Pope and join the war against the
infidel Saracens, which he looked upon as a nobler service than that of
raising the people against their lawful king.
So earnest were his professions that Dinas believed him and dismissed
his forces, but no sooner was this done than King Mark set aside his
oath and had Tristram again privately seized and imprisoned.
This new outrage filled the whole realm with tumult and rebellious
feeling. La Belle Isolde was at first thrown into the deepest grief, and
then her heart swelled high with resolution to live no longer with the
dastard who called her wife. Tristram at the same time privately sent
her a letter, advising her to leave the court of her villanous lord, and
offering to go with her to Arthur's realm, if she would have a vessel
privately made ready.
The queen thereupon had an interview with Dinas and Sadok, and begged
them to seize and imprison the king, since she was resolved to escape
from his power.
Furious at the fox-like treachery of the king, these knights did as
requested, for they formed a plot by which Mark was privately seized,
and they imprisoned him secretly in a strong dungeon. At the same time
Tristram was delivered, and soon sailed openly away from Cornwall with
La Belle Isolde, gladly shaking the dust of that realm of treachery from
his feet.
In due time the vessel touched shore in King Arthur's dominions, and
gladly throbbed the heart of the long-unhappy queen as her feet touched
that free and friendly soil. As for Tristram, never was lover fuller of
joy, and life seemed to him to have just begun.
Not long had they landed when a knightly chance brought Lancelot into
their company. Warm indeed was the greeting of those two noble
companions, and glad the welcome which Lancelot gave Isolde to English
soil.
"You have done well," he said, "to fly from that wolf's den. There is no
noble knight in the world but hates King Mark and will honor you for
leaving his palace of vile devices. Come with me, you shall be housed at
my expense."
Then he rode with them to his own castle of Joyous Gard, a noble
stronghold which he had won with his own hands. A royal castle it was,
garnished and provided with a richness which no king or queen could
surpass. Here Lancelot bade them use everything as their own, and
charged all his people to love and honor them as they would himself.
"Joyous Gard is yours as long as you will honor it by making it your
home," he said. "As for me, I can have no greater joy than to know that
my castle is so nobly tenanted, and that Tristram of Lyonesse and Queen
Isolde are my honored guests."
Leaving them, Lancelot rode to Camelot, where he told Arthur and
Guenever of what had happened, much to their joy and delight.
"By my crown," cried Arthur, joyfully, "the coming of Tristram and
Isolde to my realm is no everyday event, and is worthy of the highest
honor. We must signalize it with a noble tournament."
Then he gave orders that a stately passage-at-arms should be held on
May-day at the castle of Lonazep, which was near Joyous Gard. And word
was sent far and near that the knights of his own realm of Logris, with
those of Cornwall and North Wales, would be pitted against those of the
rest of England, of Ireland and Scotland, and of lands beyond the seas.
CHAPTER II.
HOW TRISTRAM BEFOOLED DINADAN.
Never were two happier lovers than Tristram and Isolde at Joyous Gard.
Their days were spent in feasting and merriment, Isolde's heart
overflowing with joy to be free from the jealousy of her ill-tempered
spouse, and Tristram's to have his lady love to himself, far from
treacherous plots and murderous devices.
Every day Tristram went hunting, for at that time men say he was the
best courser at the chase in the world, and the rarest blower of the
horn among all lovers of sport. From him, it is said, came all the
terms of hunting and hawking, the distinction between beasts of the
chase and vermin, all methods of dealing with hounds and with game, and
all the blasts of the chase and the recall, so that they who delight in
huntsmen's sport will have cause to the world's end to love Sir Tristram
and pray for his soul's repose.
Yet Isolde at length grew anxious for his welfare, and said,--
"I marvel that you ride so much to the chase unarmed. This is a country
not well known to you, and one that contains many false knights, while
King Mark may lay some plot for your destruction. I pray you, my dear
love, to take more heed to your safety."
This advice seemed timely, and thereafter Tristram rode in armor to the
chase, and followed by men who bore his shield and spear. One day, a
little before the month of May, he followed a hart eagerly, but as the
animal led him by a cool woodland spring, he alighted to quench his
thirst in the gurgling waters.
Here, by chance, he met with Dinadan, who had come into that country in
search of him. Some words of greeting passed between them, after which
Dinadan asked him his name, telling his own. This confidence Tristram
declined to return, whereupon Dinadan burst out in anger.
[Illustration: MARRIAGE OF SIR TRISTRAM.]
"You value your name highly, sir knight," he said. "Do you design to
ride everywhere under a mask? Such a foolish knight as you I saw but
lately lying by a well. He seemed like one asleep, and no word could be
got from him, yet all the time he grinned like a fool. The fellow was
either an idiot or a lover, I know not which."
"And are not you a lover?" asked Tristram.
"Marry, my wit has saved me from that craft."
"That is not well said," answered Tristram. "A knight who disdains love
is but half a man, and not half a warrior."
"I am ready to stand by my creed," retorted Dinadan. "As for you,
sirrah, you shall tell me your name, or do battle with me."
"You will not get my name by a threat, I promise you that," said
Tristram. "I shall not fight till I am in the mood; and when I do, you
may get more than you bargain for."
"I fear you not, coward," said Dinadan.
"If you are so full of valor, here is your man," said Tristram, pointing
to a knight who rode along the forest aisle towards them. "He looks
ready for a joust."
"On my life, it is the same dull-plate knave I saw lying by the well,
neither sleeping nor waking," said Dinadan.
"This is not the first time I have seen that covered shield of azure,"
said Tristram. "This knight is Sir Epinegris, the son of the king of
Northumberland, than whom the land holds no more ardent lover, for his
heart is gone utterly out to the fair daughter of the king of Wales.
Now, if you care to find whether a lover or a non-lover is the better
knight, here is your opportunity."
"I shall teach him to grin to more purpose," said Dinadan. "Stand by and
you shall see."
Then, as the lover approached, he cried,--
"Halt, sir knight, and make ready to joust, as is the custom with errant
knights."
"Let it be so, if you will," answered Epinegris. "Since it is the custom
of you knight-errant to make a man joust whether he will or no, I am
your man."
"Make ready, then, for here is for you."
Then they spurred their horses and rode together at full speed, Dinadan
breaking his spear, while Epinegris struck him so shrewd a blow that he
rolled upon the earth.
"How now?" cried Tristram. "It seems to me that the lover has best
sped."
"Will you play the coward?" queried Dinadan. "Or will you, like a good
knight, revenge me?"
"I am not in the mood," answered Tristram. "Take your horse, Sir
Dinadan, and let us get away from here, where hard blows are more
plentiful than soft beds."
"Defend me from such fellowship as yours!" roared Dinadan. "Take your
way and I will take mine. We fit not well together."
"I might give you news of Sir Tristram."
"Sir Tristram, if he be wise, will seek better company. I can do without
your news, as I have had to do without your help," and he rode on in
high dudgeon.
"Farewell, then," cried Tristram, laughing. "It may happen we shall soon
meet again."
Tristram rode back in much amusement to Joyous Gard, but on coming near
he heard in the neighboring town a great outcry.
"What means this noise?" he asked.
"Sir," he was told, "a knight of the castle has just been slain by two
strangers, and for no other cause than saying that Sir Lancelot was a
better knight than Sir Gawaine."
"Who would dispute that?" said Tristram. "It is a small cause for the
death of a good man, that he stands for his lord's fame."
"But what remedy have we?" said the towns-men. "If Lancelot had been
here, these fellows would soon have been called to a reckoning. But,
alas, he is away."
"I may do something in his service," answered Tristram. "If I take his
place, I must defend his followers."
Thereupon he sent for his shield and spear, and rode in pursuit of the
two knights, whom he overtook before they had gone far.
"Turn, sir dastards," he cried, "and amend your misdeeds."
"What amends wish you?" asked one of the knights. "We are ready with
spear and sword to make good whatever we have done."
He rode against Tristram, but was met so sturdily in mid career that he
was thrust over his horse's tail. Then the other rode against him, and
was served in the same rough manner.
They rose as quickly as they could, drew their swords, and challenged
him to battle on foot.
"You shall tell me your names," he said, sternly. "I warn you that if it
comes to sword-play you will find more than your match. Yet you may have
that in your lineage which will keep you from my hands, however much you
deserve punishment for your evil deeds."
"As for our names, we dread not to tell them. We are Agravaine and
Gaheris, brothers to the good knight Gawaine, and nephews of King
Arthur."
"For Arthur's sake, then, I must let you pass unscathed. Yet it is a
crying shame that men of such good blood as you should play the part of
murderers. You slew among you a better knight than the best of your kin,
Lamorak de Galis, and I would to God I had been by at that time."
"You would have gone the same road," said Gaheris.
"Not without more knights to do it than you had in your murderous crew."
With these words he turned from them and rode back towards Joyous Gard.
When he had gone they regained their horses, and feeling themselves safe
in the saddle their courage returned.
"Let us pursue this boaster," they said, "and see if he fares so much
better than Lamorak."
They did so, and when they came near Tristram, who was jogging slowly
along, Agravaine cried,--
"Turn, traitor knight!"
"Traitor in your teeth!" cried Tristram, in a rage. "I let you off too
cheaply, it seems." And drawing his sword, he turned upon Agravaine and
smote him so fiercely on the helm that he fell swooning from his horse,
with a dangerous wound.
Then he turned to Gaheris and dealt him a blow that in like manner
tumbled him from his saddle to the earth. This done, Tristram turned and
rode into the castle, leaving them like dead men in the road.
Here he told La Belle Isolde of his several adventures. When he spoke
of Dinadan, she asked,--
"Was it not he that made the song about King Mark?"
"The same," answered Tristram. "He is the greatest jester at Arthur's
court, but a good knight withal, and I know no man whom I like better as
a comrade."
"Why did you not bring him with you?"
"No need of that. He is seeking me through this country, and there is no
fear that he will give up the search lightly."
As they spoke, a servant came and told Tristram that a knight-errant had
entered the town, and described the device on his shield.
"That is our man now," said Tristram. "That is Dinadan. Send for him,
Isolde, and you shall hear the merriest knight and the maddest talker
that you ever spoke with. I pray you to make him heartily welcome, for
he is a cherished friend of mine."
Then Isolde sent into the town with a message to Dinadan, begging that
he would come to the castle and rest a while there, at a lady's wish.
"That will I, with a good will," answered Dinadan. "I were but a churl
else."
He hastened to mount and ride to the castle, and here he was shown to a
chamber where he laid aside his armor. Then he was brought into the
presence of La Belle Isolde, who courteously bade him welcome.
"Whence, come you, and what name do you bear?" she asked.
"Madam," he answered, "I am from King Arthur's court, and am one of the
small fry of Round Table Knights. My name is Dinadan."
"And why came you hither?"
"I am seeking my old friend and comrade, Sir Tristram, who I am told has
made his way to this country."
"That I cannot answer for," said Isolde. "He may and he may not be here.
Sir Tristram will be found where love leads him."
"I warrant me that. Your true lover has no will of his own, but is led
like an ox, with a ring in his nose. I marvel what juice of folly gets
into the pates of these lovers to make them so mad about the women."
"Why, sir," said Isolde, "can it be that you are a knight and no lover?
I fancy that there can be no true man-of-arms who seeks not by his deeds
to win the smiles of the fair."
"They who care to be fed on smiles are welcome to them, but I am not
made of that fashion," answered Dinadan. "The joy of love is too short,
and the sorrow thereof too long, to please my fancy."
"Say you so? Yet near here but to-day was the good knight Sir Bleoberis,
he who fought with three knights at once for a maiden's sake, and won
her before the king of Northumberland."
"I know him for a worthy fellow," said Dinadan, "as are all of
Lancelot's kindred. Yet he has crotchets in his head, like all that
crew."
"Now, I pray you," said Isolde, "will you not do me the grace to fight
for my love with three knights that have done me great wrong? As you
are a knight of King Arthur's, you can never say me nay in such a duty."
"Can I not?" cried Dinadan. "This much I will say, madam, that you are
as fair a sample of womankind as ever I saw, and much more beautiful
than is my lady Queen Guenever. And yet, heaven defend me, I will not
fight for you against three knights; and would not, were you Helen of
Troy herself."
At these words, and the odd grimace which he made, La Belle Isolde burst
into a merry peal of laughter, and broke out with,--
"I know you better than you fancy, Sir Dinadan. And well you keep up
your credit of being a merry fellow. You are very welcome to my castle,
good sir."
They had much more of gameful conversation together, and Dinadan was
treated with all honor, and slept serenely at the castle that night. But
Tristram took good care to keep out of his sight.
Early the next day Tristram armed himself and prepared to ride away,
saying to the Lady Isolde that he would contrive to meet with Dinadan,
and would ride with him to Lonazep, where the tournament was to be held.
He promised also to make arrangements to provide her with a good place
from which to see the passage-at-arms. Then he departed, accompanied by
two squires, who bore his shield and a brace of great and long spears.
Shortly afterwards Dinadan left the castle, bidding a merry adieu to the
lady, and rode so briskly forward that he soon overtook Tristram. He
knew him at sight for his yesterday's comrade, and made a sour grimace
at beholding him.
"So," he said, "here again is my easy-going friend, who wears his armor
for a holiday parade. You shall not get off so lightly to-day, fellow.
You shall joust with me, despite your head."
"Faith, I am not eager," said Tristram, "but a wilful man will have his
way; so let us have it over, if fight we must."
Then they rode at each other, and Dinadan broke a spear on Tristram's
shield, but Tristram purposely missed him.
Dinadan now bade him draw his sword.
"Not I," he answered. "What makes you so warlike? I am not in the humor
to fight."
"You shame all knights by your cowardice."
"So far as that goes, it troubles me little," said Tristram. "Suppose,
my good sir, you take me under your protection. Though I bear arms I
shall gladly accept the patronage of so worthy a knight as you."
"The devil deliver me of you!" cried Dinadan. "You are a fellow of
goodly build, and sit your horse like a warrior; but heaven knows if you
have blood or water in your veins. What do you propose to do with those
great spears that your squire carries?"
"I shall give them to some good knight at the tournament. If you prove
the best there, you are welcome to them."
As they thus conversed they saw a knight-errant in the road before them,
who sat with spear in rest as if eager to joust.
"Come," said Tristram, "since you are so anxious for a fight, yonder is
your man."
"Shame betide you for a dastard," cried Dinadan. "Fight him yourself.
You can't get more than a fall."
"Not so. That knight seems a shrewish fellow. It will need a stronger
hand than mine to manage him."
"Good faith, then, here's to teach you a lesson," said Dinadan, and he
rode fiercely against the other knight, with the unlucky result that he
was thrust from his horse, and fell headlong to the earth.
"What did I tell you?" said Tristram. "You had better have taken a
lesson from my prudence, and let that good fellow alone."
"The fiends take you, coward!" cried Dinadan, as he started to his feet
and drew his sword. "Come, sir knight, you are my better on horseback,
let us have it out on foot."
"Shall it be in love or in anger?" said the other.
"Let it be in love. I am saving all my anger for this do-nothing who
came with me."
"Then I pray you to tell me your name."
"Folks call me Dinadan."
"Ah, and I am your comrade Gareth. I will not fight with an old friend
like Dinadan."
"Nor I with you, by my faith!" cried Dinadan, seizing Gareth's hand and
giving it a warm pressure. "Beaumains is safe from my spear. Here is a
chap now, if you want to try your skill; but if you can get him to fight
you must first learn the art of converting a coward into a man of
valor."
Tristram laughed quietly at this, and bided his time. Nor was there long
to wait, for just then a well-armed knight rode up, on a sturdy horse,
and put his spear in rest as he approached.
"Now, my good sirs," said Tristram, "choose between yourselves which
will joust with yonder knight; for I warn you that I will keep clear of
him."
"Faith, you had better," said Gareth. "Leave him to me."
And he rode against the knight but with such ill-fortune that he was
thrust over his horse's croup.
"It is your turn now," said Tristram to Dinadan. "Honor requires that
you should avenge your comrade Gareth."
"Honor does, eh? Then reason does not, and I always weigh reason against
honor. He has overturned a much bigger fellow than I, and with your kind
permission I will not stir up that hornet."
"Aha, friend Dinadan, your heart fails you after all your boasting. Very
well, you shall see what the coward can do. Make ready, sir knight."
Then Tristram rode against the victorious knight, and dealt him so
shrewd a buffet that he was thrust from his horse.
Dinadan looked at this in amazement. Was this the fellow that professed
cowardice and begged protection? "The cunning rogue," he said to
himself, "has been making game of me. The rascal! where has he learned
the art of turning my weapons on myself?"
The dismounted knight rose to his feet in anger, and drawing his sword,
challenged Tristram to a fight on foot.
"First, tell me your name?" asked Tristram.
"My name is Palamides."
"And what knight hate you most?"
"I hate Sir Tristram to the death. If we meet, one of us must die."
"You need not go far to seek him. I am Tristram de Lyonesse. Now do your
worst."
At this Dinadan started, and struck his hand sturdily on his knee, like
one who has had a shock of surprise. Nor was Palamides less astonished,
and he stood before Tristram like one in a sudden revulsion of feeling.
"I pray you, Sir Tristram," he said, "to forgive my ill-will and my
unkind words. You are a noble knight and worthy of the love of all
honorable warriors. I repent my truculent temper towards you, and, if I
live, will rather do you service than assail you."
"I know your valor well," answered Tristram, "and that it is anything
but fear makes you speak so. Therefore I thank you much for your kind
words. But if you have any shreds of ill-will towards me I am ready to
give you satisfaction."
"My wits have been astray," answered Palamides. "There is no just reason
why we should be at odds, and I am ready to do you knightly service in
all things you may command."
"I take you at your word," cried Tristram, as he grasped Palamides by
the hand. "I have never been your enemy, and know none whom I would
rather have as a friend."
"Would you?" cried Dinadan. "And would have me as your fool, mayhap? By
my knightly faith, you have made a sweet butt of me! I came into this
country for your sake, and by the advice of Sir Lancelot, though he
would not tell me where to find you. By Jove's ears, I never thought to
find you masquerading as a milk-brained coward."
"He could have told you," said Tristram, "for I abode within his own
castle. As for my little sport, friend Dinadan, I cry you mercy."
"Faith, it is but one of my own jests, turned against me," said Dinadan,
with a merry laugh. "I am pinked with my own dart. I forgive you, old
comrade; but I vow I did not know you had such a jolly humor."
"It comes to one in your company," said Tristram, laughing. "The disease
is catching."
And so the four knights rode gayly onward, conversing much as they went,
and laying their plans for the tournament.
CHAPTER III.
ON THE ROAD TO LONAZEP.
The four knights rode onward in company until they came in sight of the
castle of Lonazep, where they saw striking preparations for the
tournament. For not less than four hundred tents and pavilions covered
the plain outside the great circle of the lists, and war-horses and
knights in armor were there in hundreds.
"Truly," said Tristram, "this is the royalest show that I ever saw."
"You forget," answered Palamides. "It had its equal at the Castle of
Maidens, where you won the prize."
"And in that tournament which Galahalt of the Long Isles held in Surluse
there was as great a gathering," said Dinadan.
"I was not there; who won the prize?" asked Tristram.
"Lancelot du Lake, and the next after him was the noble knight Lamorak
de Galis."
"A noble fellow, indeed, I never met his better, save Sir Lancelot. His
murder was shameful, and were they not the nephews of my lord Arthur
that slew him, by my faith they should die the death. And this without
prejudice to you, Sir Gareth."
"Say what you will on that point; I am with you," answered Gareth.
"Though my own brothers did that bloody work, I hold not with them. None
of them love me, as you well know, and I have left their company as
murderers. Had I been by when Lamorak was killed there might have been
another tale to tell."
"Truly that is well said of you," rejoined Tristram. "I would rather
have been there than to have all the gold between here and Rome."
"And I also," said Palamides. "It is a burning disgrace to the Round
Table fellowship that such a knight should have been ambushed and slain
on his way from a passage-at-arms where he had won the prize of valor."
"Out on such treason!" cried Tristram. "The tale of it makes my blood
run cold."
"And mine as well," said Gareth. "I can never love or respect my
brothers again for that ruthless deed."
"Yet to speak of it is useless," said Palamides. "His life is gone; we
cannot bring it back again."
"There lies the pity," said Dinadan. "No matter how good and noble a man
may be, when he stops breathing all else stops with him. By good luck,
though, the same rule holds with villains and cowards. As for Gawaine
and his brothers, except you, Sir Gareth, they hate the best knights of
the Round Table, and Lancelot and his kindred above all. Only that
Lancelot is well aware of this, they might draw him into as deadly a
trap as they drew poor Lamorak."
"Come, come, remember that Gareth is their brother," said Palamides.
"Let us change the subject. Here is this tournament,--what part shall we
play here? My advice is that we four hold together against all that may
assail us."
"That is not my counsel," said Tristram. "By their pavilions we may
count on some four hundred knights, and doubtless many of them worthy
ones. If we play the game of four against all comers we are likely to
find ourselves borne down by numbers. Many good knights have lost the
game by taking too great odds. Manhood is of little avail if it be not
tempered by wisdom. If you think it best we may try it, and see what we
can do in company, but, as a rule, I prefer to fight for my own hand."
As they thus talked they rode away from Lonazep, and in due time came to
the banks of the Humber, where they were surprised by a loud and
grievous cry that seemed full of doleful meaning. Looking over the
waters they saw approaching before the wind a vessel richly draped with
red silk. Not long had they waited when it came to the shore, at a point
close by where they stood.
Seeing this strange thing and hearing the doleful cries which came from
the vessel, the knights gave their horses in care of their squires, and
approached on foot, Tristram boarding the vessel. When he reached the
deck he saw there a bed with rich silken coverings, on which lay a dead
knight, armed save the head, which was crimsoned with blood. And through
great gaps in his armor deadly wounds could be seen.
"What means this?" said Tristram. "How came this knight by his death?"
As he spoke he saw that a letter lay in the dead knight's hand.
"Master mariners," he asked of those on board the vessel, "what does
this strange thing signify?"
"Sir knight," they answered, "by the letter which the dead knight bears
you may learn how and for what cause he was slain, and what name he
bore. Yet first heed well this warning: No man must take and read that
letter unless he be a knight of proved valor, and faithfully promises to
revenge the murder of this good warrior."
"There be those among us able to revenge him," answered Tristram. "And
if he shall prove to have been foully treated his death shall not go
unredressed."
Therewith he took the letter from the knight's hand and opened it. Thus
it read,--
"I, Hermance, king and lord of the Red City, request of all
knights-errant and all noble knights of Arthur's court, that they find
one knight who will fight for my sake with two false brethren, whom I
brought up from nothingness and who have feloniously and treacherously
slain me. And it is my will and desire that the valiant knight who
avenges my death shall become lord of my Red City and all my castles."
"Sir," said the mariners, "the king and knight that lies here dead was a
man of great virtue and noble prowess, and one who loved all
knights-errant, and, above all, those of King Arthur's court."
"It is a piteous case, truly," said Tristram. "I would fain take the
enterprise in hand myself, but that I have made a solemn promise to take
part in this great tournament. It was for my sake in especial that my
lord Arthur made it, and I cannot in honor and courtesy fail to attend
it. Therefore I am not free to undertake any adventure which may keep me
from the lists."
"I pray you, dear sir," said Palamides, who had followed Tristram into
the vessel, "to put this enterprise into my hands. I promise to achieve
it worthily or to die in the effort."
"Be it so," said Tristram. "You may go if you will. But first I wish
your promise to return so as to be with me at the tournament this day
week, if possible."
"That promise I freely give. If I be alive and unhurt, and my task be
not too arduous and long, I shall be with you by that day."
This said, Tristram left the vessel, leaving Palamides in it, and he,
with Gareth and Dinadan, stood watching it as the mariners hoisted its
sails and it glided swiftly away over long Humber. Not till it was out
of sight did they return to their horses, and look about them.
As they did so they beheld near them a knight, who came up unarmed save
a sword, and saluted them with all courtesy.
"Fair sirs," he said, "I pray you, as knights-errant, to come and see my
castle, and take such fare as you may find there. This I heartily
request."
"That shall we willingly do, and thank you for your courtesy," they
answered, and rode with him to his castle, which was near by.
Here they entered a richly-furnished hall, and, having laid off their
armor, took their seats at a well-laden table. But when the host saw
Tristram's face, he knew him, and first grew pale and then angry of
countenance.
"Sir, mine host," said Tristram, on seeing this threatening aspect,
"what is wrong with you, I pray?"
"I know you, Tristram de Lyonesse," answered the knight, hotly. "You
slew my brother. Honor demands that I shall not seek revenge here, but I
give you warning that I will kill you when I meet you outside my
castle."
"I have no knowledge of you or your brother," answered Tristram. "But no
man can say that I ever killed any one except in fair and open fight. If
I have done as you say I stand ready to make what amends are in my
power."
"I desire no amends," rejoined the knight. "But I warn you to keep from
me."
Tristram at this rose from the table and asked for his arms, his
companions following him. Seeking their horses they rode away, but they
had not gone far from the castle when Dinadan saw a knight following
them, who was well armed, but bore no shield.
"Take care of yourself, Sir Tristram," he said. "Yonder comes our host
to call you to account."
"Then I must abide him as I may," answered Tristram.
Soon the knight came up, and, loudly bidding Tristram to be on his
guard, he rode furiously upon him with couched spear. But his valor went
beyond his strength, for he was hurled over his horse's croup.
Not content with this, he rose, mounted again, and driving his horse at
full speed upon Tristram, struck him two hard blows on the helm.
"Sir knight," said Tristram, "I pray you leave off this sport. I do not
care to harm you after having just eaten at your table, but beg you not
to try my patience too far."
The furious assailant would not cease, however, and continued his
assaults until Tristram was provoked to anger. In the end he returned
the knight a blow with the full strength of his mighty arm, so fierce a
buffet, indeed, that the blood burst out from the breathing holes of his
helm, and he fell to the earth and lay there like one dead.
[Illustration: THE ASSAULT OF SIR TRISTRAM.]
"I hope I have not killed him," said Tristram. "I did not think to
strike the man so hard a blow, but I am not a log to stand at rest and
let him whet his sword on."
Leaving the fallen knight to the care of his squire, they rode on; but
not far had they gone when they saw coming towards them two well-armed
and well-horsed knights, each with a good following of servants. One of
these was Berrant le Apres, he who was called the king with the hundred
knights, and the other Sir Segwarides, both men of might and renown.
When they came up the king looked at Dinadan, who, through sport, had
put on Tristram's helmet. This he recognized as one he had seen before
with the queen of Northgalis, whom he loved. She had given it to La
Belle Isolde, and she to Tristram.
"Sir knight," asked Berrant, "whence had you that helm?"
"Not from you, I fancy. What have you to say to it?"
"That I will have a tilt with you, for the love of her who once owned
it. Therefore, defend yourself."
So they drew asunder, and rode at each other with all the speed of their
horses. But Dinadan, good knight as he was, was no match for the tough
and hardy warrior before him, and was sent, horse and all, to the
ground.
"I fancy I have something to say about the helmet now," said Berrant,
grimly. "Go take it off him, and keep it," he ordered his servant.
"What will you do?" cried Tristram. "Hands off, fellow. Touch not that
helm."
"To what intent do you meddle, sir knight?" demanded Berrant.
"To this intent, that the helm is mine. Nor will you get it from me till
you buy it at a dearer price."
"Do you mean that as a challenge?" asked Berrant. "Be it so, then; make
ready."
Together they rode with all speed, but with a change of fortune, for
Berrant found himself thrust over the tail of his horse. In a moment he
was on his feet, sprang briskly to his saddle, and, riding in anger upon
Tristram, struck at him fiercely with his sword.
Tristram was not taken unawares, but in an instant had his sword in
hand. A fierce combat followed, for the king with the hundred knights
was a warrior of tough sinews and tried valor, but at the last he
received such a buffet on the helm that he fell forward on his horse's
neck, stunned and helpless.
"By my faith, that helmet has proved unlucky for two of us," said
Dinadan. "It brought me a tumble, and now, sir king, you owe it a
buzzing head-piece."
"Who will joust with me?" asked Segwarides.
"It is your right," said Gareth to Dinadan, "but I pray you let me have
it."
"You are heartily welcome to it. One tumble a day is enough for my weak
appetite," answered Dinadan. "I make you a free present of the
opportunity."
"That is no fair exchange," said Tristram. "The joust is yours by
right."
"But not by choice," rejoined Dinadan. "Good faith, sir bruiser, I have
lived long enough to know when I have had my share, and that is a
lesson it would pay many of you battle-hungry knights to learn."
Then Gareth and Segwarides rode together, the result being that Gareth
and his horse went in a heap to the earth.
"Now," said Tristram, "the joust is yours."
"But the appetite is lacking," said Dinadan. "I have even less stomach
for it than before."
"Then will I try him."
With these words Tristram challenged Segwarides, who received a sore
fall in the joust that followed. Then the three knights rode on, leaving
their late antagonists the worse in heart and limb for the encounter.
They continued their ride till they reached Joyous Gard. Here Gareth
courteously declined to enter the castle, but Tristram would not hear of
his departure, and made him alight and enter as his guest. So they
disarmed and had good cheer, with La Belle Isolde as their hostess.
But Dinadan, when he came into the presence of Isolde, roundly cursed
the hour that he had been persuaded to wear Tristram's helm, and told
her of how he had been mocked by his comrade knight.
Much laughing and jesting at Dinadan followed, but this was a game in
which he was quite able to hold his own, however he might lack with
sword and spear. For Arthur's court held no other so witty of tongue and
merry of heart. And thus in jest and feast they passed the hours happily
away.
CHAPTER IV.
HOW PALAMIDES FARED AT THE RED CITY.
Leaving Tristram and his companions to their merry talk in Joyous Gard,
we must now return to Palamides. The ship into which he had entered
sailed far along the Humber, until in time it reached the open sea. It
continued its course through the sea-waves till it came to a part of the
coast where stood a stately castle.
All day and night they had sailed, and it was now early in the morning,
before day-dawn. Palamides was sound asleep in the vessel's cabin when
the mariners came to call him.
"Sir knight," they said, "you must arise. We have reached a castle,
which you must enter."
"I am at your command," he replied.
Rising, he armed himself quickly, and then blew a loud call upon a horn
which the mariners gave him.
At the ringing music of that bugle-blast the sleeping castle seemed to
stir into life. Soon many eyes could be seen looking from the windows,
and ere long the walls were crowded with knights, who called to
Palamides as with one voice, "Welcome, fair sir, to this castle."
The day had now fully dawned, and Palamides entered the castle, where a
crowd of knights came to greet him, and led him to a stately
dining-hall, where an abundant breakfast awaited him. But as he ate he
heard much lamentation, and saw many whose eyes were wet with tears.
"What means this?" he asked. "I love not such sorrow, and would fain
know what gives rise to it."
"We mourn here daily," answered a knight named Sir Ebel, "and for this
cause. We had a king named Hermance, who was lord of the Red City, and
in every way a noble and generous monarch. And he loved nothing in the
world so much as the knights-errant of King Arthur's court, together
with the sports of jousting, hunting, and all knightly diversions. A
king so kind of heart as he was never before known in this country, and
we shall ever be filled with sorrow for his loss. Yet he acted unwisely,
and is himself at fault for his death."
"Tell me how he was slain and by whom," asked Palamides.
"In this wise it came to pass," answered Ebel. "He brought up, in pure
charity, two children, who are now strong knights. And to them he gave
all his trust and confidence, in default of those of his own blood.
These two men governed him completely, and, through him, his lands and
people, for they took the best of care that none of his kindred should
come into power. He was so free and trustful, and they so politic and
deceitful, that they ruled him as though they were the kings and he the
subject. When the lords of our king's blood saw that he had fallen into
this dotage they left the court in disgust, and sought their livelihood
elsewhere. This it proved not wise to do, for when these villains found
that all the king's kindred had left the realm they schemed to have more
power still; for, as the old saw says, 'Give a churl rule in part, and
he will not be content till he has it all.' It is the instinct of the
base-born to destroy gentlemen-born, if the power be put in their hands,
and all rulers should take warning by the fate of King Hermance. In the
end our king, by the advice of these traitors, rode into the forest here
by, to chase the red deer. When he had become warm from the hunt he
alighted to drink at a woodland spring, and, while he was bent over the
water, one of these villains thrust him through the body with a spear.
They then fled from the spot, thinking he was dead. Shortly after they
had gone, fortune brought me to the spot, where I found my lord still
alive, but mortally hurt, and learned from him his story. Knowing that
we had no knights able to revenge him on his murderers, I had him
brought to the water, and put into the ship alive, and the letter which
he bore in his hand I wrote from his own words. Then he died, and, as he
had ordered, the ship set sail up the Humber, bound for the realm of
Logris, where it was hoped that some valiant Knight of the Round Table
would take this adventure on himself."
"Truly your doleful tale grieves me sorely," said Palamides. "I saw the
letter you speak of. It was read to me by one of the best knights upon
the earth, and it is by his command I am here. I came to revenge your
king, and I shall never be at ease till I meet with and punish his
murderers."
"You have my hearty thanks and best wishes," said Ebel. "Since you
accept this adventure, you must enter the ship again, and sail forward
till you reach the Delectable Isle, which is near by the Red City. We
shall await here your return. If you speed well this castle is yours.
King Hermance built it for the two traitors, but we hold it against
them, and they threaten us sorely unless we yield it."
"Look that you keep it, whatsoever may come to me," said Palamides. "For
if fortune decides that I am to be slain in this quest, I trust that one
of the best knights in the world will come to revenge me; either
Tristram de Lyonesse or Lancelot du Lake."
Then Palamides entered the ship and sailed away towards the Red City.
But as he came near it, and landed on the coast, another ship touched
shore near by, from which came a goodly knight, with his shield on his
shoulder and his hand on his sword.
"Sir knight, what seek you here?" he asked Palamides. "If you have come
to revenge King Hermance you must yield this quest to me, for it was
mine before it was yours, and I shall yield it to no man."
"You speak like a true knight," said Palamides. "But when the letter was
taken from the dead king's hand there was nothing known of any champion
for him, and so I promised to revenge him. And this I must and shall do,
lest I win shame instead of honor."
"You have right on your side," said the knight. "What I propose is this.
I will fight with you; and he who proves the better knight shall have
the quest."
"That fits with my fancy," said Palamides; "for from what I hear no
second-rate champion can watch this pair of villains."
With this they advanced their shields and drew their swords, and began a
stern and well-contested combat. For more than an hour the fight between
them continued, but at the end of this time Palamides seemed stronger
and better-winded than at the beginning, and he finally dealt his
opponent a blow that brought him to his knees. Then the discomfited
combatant cried out,--
"Knight, hold your hand."
Palamides let fall his sword at this request.
"You are the better of us two, and more worthy of this battle," said the
knight. "But fain would I know your name."
"My name is Palamides. I am a Knight of the Round Table, and one well
known in Arthur's realm."
"In good faith it is, and much beyond that realm," answered the knight.
"I know only three living men besides yourself who are fitted for this
task, and they are Lancelot, Tristram, and my cousin Lamorak. As for me,
my name is Hermind, and I am brother to the murdered King Hermance."
"I shall do my best to revenge your brother," said Palamides. "If I am
slain, I commend you to Lancelot or Tristram. As for Lamorak, he will
never strike blow again."
"Alas, what mean you?"
"That he has been murdered--waylaid and slain treacherously by Gawaine
and his brothers, except Sir Gareth, the best of them all." And he told
the story of the death of Lamorak, much to the grief and indignation of
his hearer.
Then Palamides took ship again, and sailed on till he came to the
Delectable Isle. Meanwhile Hermind made all haste to the Red City, where
he told of the arrival of the famous knight Palamides and of his combat
with him. The people were filled with joy at these tidings, and quickly
sent a messenger to the two brethren, bidding them to make ready, as a
knight had come who would fight them both. The messenger found them at a
castle near by, and delivered his message.
"Who is this champion?" they asked. "Is it Lancelot or any of his
blood?"
"No."
"If it were, we would not fight. But we care for no one else."
"It is a good knight though, Sir Palamides, a Saracen by birth, and
still unchristened."
"He had best have been christened before he came here, for it will be
too late when we have done with him. Let him know that we will be at the
Red City in two days, and will give him all the fighting he is likely to
want for the rest of his life."
When Palamides came to the city he was received with the greatest joy,
and the more so when the people saw what a handsome and well-built man
he was, neither too young nor too old, with clean and powerful limbs,
and no defect of body.
At the time appointed there came to the city the two brethren, Helius
and Helake by name, both of them strong and valiant men, of great
prowess in war, false as they were at heart. And with them they brought
forty knights, to guard them against any treachery from the Red City,
for they knew well that it was filled with their enemies.
The lists had already been prepared, and at the appointed hour Palamides
entered full armed, and confronted his antagonists boldly.
"Are you the two brethren Helius and Helake, who slew your king by
treason?" he asked.
"We are the men who slew King Hermance," they replied. "And bear in
mind, Sir Saracen, we are able to stand by our deeds, and will handle
you so before you depart that you will wish you had been christened
before you came so far."
"I trust to God I shall die a better Christian than either of you,"
Palamides replied. "And you had best kill me if you get the chance, for
I vow not to spare you."
As he spoke the trumpet sounded, and, reining back their horses, they
rode against each other with terrific speed. Palamides directed his
spear against Helake, and struck him so mighty a blow that the spear
pierced through his shield and hauberk, and for a fathom's length
through his breast, hurling him dead to the earth. As for Helius, he
held up his spear in pride and presumption, and rode by Palamides
without touching him.
But when he saw his brother stretched in death on the earth his
assurance changed to doubt, and rage drove the pride from his heart.
"Help thyself, villain!" he cried, and rushed upon Palamides before he
could prepare to encounter him, striking him a blow with his spear that
bore him from his saddle to the earth. Then he forced his horse over
him backward and forward before the dismounted champion could regain his
feet.
As he came again, the fallen knight reached up and caught the horse by
the bridle, dragging himself by its aid to his feet. Then, as the animal
reared, he pressed so strongly upon it that it toppled backward to the
ground, the rider barely saving himself from being crushed beneath his
fallen horse. But he was on his feet in an instant, and, sword in hand,
struck Palamides a blow on the helm that brought him down to one knee.
Before he could repeat the blow the gallant Saracen was on his feet and
had drawn his trenchant blade, with which he attacked his antagonist in
turn. A fierce and deadly combat succeeded, the two knights hurtling
together like two wild boars, now both hurled grovelling to the earth,
now on foot again and hewing at each other with the strength of giants.
Thus for two hours they fought, without time for rest or a moment's
space to recover breath. At the end of that time Palamides grew faint
and weary from the violence of his efforts, but Helius seemed as strong
as ever, and redoubling his strokes he drove back the Saracen knight
step by step, over all the field. At this the people of the city were
filled with fear, while the party of Helius shouted with triumph.
"Alas!" cried the citizens, "that this noble knight should be slain for
our king's sake."
While they thus bewailed his threatened fate and the seeming victory of
their tyrant, Helius showered so many vigorous blows on his weakened
foe that it was a wonder he kept his feet. But when he saw how the
common people wept for him his heart was filled with a sense of shame,
while a glow of fury burned like fire in his veins.
"Fie on you for a dastard, Palamides!" he said to himself. "Why hang you
your head so like a whipped hound?"
Then, with a new spirit burning hotly within him, and fresh strength
animating his limbs, he lifted his drooping shield and turned on Helius
with lion-like fury, smiting him a vigorous blow on the helm, which he
followed quickly by others. This violent onset was too much for the
strained strength of the false knight, and he retreated in dismay, while
the sword of Palamides fell with ever more and more might. At length
came so mighty a blow that he was hurled like a log to the earth. The
victorious Saracen gave him no time to recover, but sprang upon him like
a fury, tore the helm from his head, and with a final stroke smote the
head from his body.
Then he rose and stood leaning upon his sword, hardly able to bear
himself on his feet, while from all the people of the city went up loud
shouts of joy and congratulation.
"Palamides, the conqueror! Palamides, our deliverer! Palamides, our
king!" they shouted, while one adorned his brows with a wreath of
laurel, and others tore off his armor and applied ointments to his
bleeding limbs.
"Fair friends, your crown is not for me," he said. "I have delivered you
from your tyrants, but you must choose some other king, as I am under
promise to return with all speed to my lord King Arthur at the castle of
Lonazep."
This decision filled them with grief, but they brought him to the city
and treated him with all the honor which they could bestow upon him. And
as he persisted in his refusal of the crown, they proffered him a third
part of their goods if he would remain with them. All this he declined,
and in a short time departed, bearing with him a thousand good wishes
and prayers for success and fortune.
He was received with like joy and congratulation at the castle, Sir Ebel
warmly pressing him to change his decision and remain as their king. To
this Palamides would by no means consent, and after a day's stay he took
ship again, and sailed up the Humber to the castle of Lonazep.
[Illustration: SIR TRISTRAM AT JOYOUS GARD.]
CHAPTER V.
THE TOURNAMENT AT LONAZEP.
When Palamides learned that Tristram was not at Lonazep, he tarried not
there, but crossed the Humber, and sought him at Joyous Gard. Here he
found lodgings in the town, and word was quickly brought to Tristram
that a knight-errant had come.
"What manner of man is he? and what sign does he bear?" he asked.
The messenger described his armor and appearance.
"That is Palamides," said Dinadan. "The brave fellow is already back,
and victorious, I doubt not."
"It looks that way, indeed. Go and bid him welcome to Joyous Gard," said
Tristram.
So Dinadan went to Palamides, and joyfully greeted him, listening
eagerly to the story of his exploits, and congratulating him on his
signal success. He remained with him that night, and in the morning they
were visited by Tristram and Gareth before they had arisen.
Many were the warm congratulations which Tristram gave Palamides on his
noble achievement, and after they had breakfasted he invited him to ride
into the fields and woods, that they might repose under the cool shelter
of the forest. Here they alighted by a refreshing spring, and as they
sat conversing an armed knight came riding towards them.
"Who are those knights that are lodged in Joyous Gard?" he asked.
"That I cannot say," answered Tristram.
"At any rate you can tell me who you are. You are not knights-errant, I
fancy, since you ride unarmed."
"Whether we be or no, we prefer not to tell our names."
"You are not courteous, sir knight, and this is the way I pay
discourtesy," said the stranger. "Guard yourself, or you shall die by
my hands."
Then, spear in hand, he rode on Sir Tristram, with brutal intent to run
him through. But Palamides sprang up hastily, and smote the knight's
horse so fierce a blow with his clinched fist that horse and man fell
together to the earth. He then drew his sword to slay him.
"Let the dog go," said Tristram. "He is but a fool, and it were a shame
to slay him for his folly. Take the fellow's spear from him, though. It
is a weapon he has not learned the use of."
The knight rose groaning, and when he had regained his saddle he again
requested their names.
"My name is Tristram de Lyonesse, and this knight's name is Palamides.
Would you know more?"
"No, by my faith!" cried the other, and, hastily putting spurs to his
horse, he rode away as fast as the animal would carry him.
Hardly had he gone when a knight, who bore a bended shield of azure,
came riding up at a furious gallop.
"My fair sirs," he asked, "has a knight passed here bearing a shield
with a case of red over it?"
"Yes. We but now had some trouble with such a fellow. Who is he?"
"And you let him escape? That was ill-advised, fair sirs. He is the
falsest rogue and the greatest foe to knights-errant living. His name is
Breuse Sans Pite."
"And I had him under my sword!" cried Palamides. "Fool I was to let him
go."
"If I overtake him there will be another story to tell," answered the
knight, as he spurred onward on the track of the fugitive.
Then the four friends mounted and rode leisurely back towards Joyous
Gard, much conversing as they went. When they reached the castle
Palamides wished not to enter, but Tristram insisted on it, and, taking
him by the hand, led him in.
When Palamides saw La Belle Isolde, whom he had not met for years, but
for whom his love burned as warmly as ever, he was so ravished with joy
that he could scarcely speak. And when they were at dinner he could not
eat a morsel, but sat like a dumb man, scarcely venturing to raise his
eyes to Isolde's lovely countenance.
Poorly he slept that night, and with many dreams of her he loved. When
morning broke they all prepared to ride to Lonazep. Tristram took with
him three squires, and Queen Isolde had three gentlewomen, all attired
with great richness. These, with the other knights and their squires,
and valets to bear their shields and spears, formed their train.
Not far had they gone before they saw on the road before them a group of
knights. Chief of these was the knight Galihodin, who was attended by
twenty companions.
"Fair fellows," said Galihodin, "yonder come four knights escorting a
richly-attired lady. What say you? shall we take her from them?"
"That is not the best counsel," said one.
"At any rate, it is my counsel," answered Galihodin. "We shall show them
that we have the right of the road." And he sent a squire to them,
asking them if they would joust, or else lose their lady.
"We are but four," said Tristram. "Tell your lord to come with three of
his comrades, and win her if he can."
"Let me have this joust," said Palamides. "I will undertake them all
four."
"As you will," said Tristram. "Go tell your lord that this one knight
will encounter him and any three of his fellows."
The squire departed with his challenge, and in a trice Galihodin came
riding forward spear in rest. Palamides encountered him in mid career,
and smote him so hard a blow that he had a terrible fall to the earth,
and his horse with him. His three comrades were served in the same
summary manner, while Palamides still bore an unbroken spear. At this
unlooked-for result six knights rode out from the opposite party with
purpose of revenge on the victor.
"Hold your hands," cried Galihodin. "Let not one of you touch this noble
knight, who has proved himself a man of worth. And I doubt if the whole
of you could handle him."
When Palamides saw that the field was yielded to him he rode back to Sir
Tristram.
"Well and worshipfully have you done," said Tristram. "No man could have
surpassed you."
Onward they rode again, and in a little while after met four knights in
the highway, with spears in rest. These were Gawaine and three
companions. This joust also Tristram gave to Palamides, and he served
these four as he had served the others, leaving them all unhorsed in
the road. For the presence of La Belle Isolde gave the strength of ten
men to the arm of her lover, the Saracen.
They now continued their route without molestation, and in good time
reached the spot where Tristram had ordered his pavilions to be set up.
Here were now many more pavilions than they had seen on their previous
visit, and a great array of knights, who had been gathering for many
days, for far and wide had spread the news of the great tournament.
Leaving Palamides and Gareth at the pavilions with Queen Isolde,
Tristram and Dinadan rode to Lonazep to learn what was afoot, Tristram
riding on the Saracen knight's white horse. As they came into the castle
the sound of a great bugle-blast met their ears, and many knights
crowded forward.
"What means the blast?" asked Tristram.
"Sir," answered a knight, "it comes from the party who hold against King
Arthur at this tournament. These are the kings of Ireland, of Surluse,
of Listinoise, of Northumberland, of North Wales, and of other
countries. They are calling a council to decide how they shall be
governed in the lists."
Tristram thereupon followed them to their council, and listened to the
debate. He then sought his horse again, and rode by where King Arthur
stood surrounded by a press of knights. Among those were Galihodin and
Gawaine, who said to the king: "That knight in the green harness, with
the white horse, is a man of might, whoever he be. To-day he overthrew
us both, with six of our fellows."
"Who can he be?" said the king, and he called Tristram to him, and
requested to know his name.
"I beg pardon, my liege lord," answered Tristram, "and pray that you
will hold me excused from revealing my name at this time," and he turned
his horse and rode away.
"Go after him, Sir Griflet," said the king. "Tell him that I wish to
speak with him apart."
Griflet rode to Tristram and told him the king's wish, and the two
returned in company.
"Fair sir," said the king, "what is the cause that you withhold your
name?"
"I have an excellent reason, but beg that you will not press me for it."
"With which party do you hold?"
"Truly, my lord, that I cannot say. Where my heart draws or my fancy
bids I will go. To-morrow you shall see which side I take. To-day I know
not myself."
Leaving the king, he rode back to where his pavilions were set. When the
morning dawned he and his three companions armed themselves all in green
and rode to the lists. Here young knights had begun to joust, and,
seeing this, Gareth asked leave of Tristram to break a spear.
"Go in and do your best if you care to play with beginners," said
Tristram, laughing.
But Gareth found himself encountered by a nephew of the king with the
hundred knights, who had some of his uncle's tough fibre, and both got
ugly falls, and lay on the ground till they were helped up by their
friends. Then Tristram and Palamides rode with Gareth back to the
pavilions, where they removed their helmets. When Isolde saw Gareth all
bruised in the face, she asked him what ailed him.
"Madam, I had a hard buffet, and gave another, but none of my fellows
would rescue me."
"Only unproved knights are yet in the field," said Palamides. "The man
that met you, though, was a strong and well-trained knight, Sir Selises
by name, so you have no dishonor. Rest here and get yourself in
condition for to-morrow's work."
"I shall not fail you if I can bestride my horse," said Gareth.
"What party is it best for us to join to-morrow?" asked Tristram.
"Against King Arthur, is my advice," said Palamides. "Lancelot and many
other good men will be on his side, and the more men of prowess we meet
the more honor we will win."
"Well and knightly spoken," said Tristram. "Hard blows is what we court.
Your counsel is well given."
"So think we all," said the others.
On the morrow, when day had broken, they arrayed themselves in green
trappings, with shields and spears of green, while Isolde and her three
damsels wore dresses of the same color. For the ladies Tristram found
seats in a bay window of a priory which overlooked the field, and from
which they could see all that took place. This done, they rode straight
to the party of the king of Scots.
When Arthur saw this he asked Lancelot who were these knights and the
queenly lady who came with them.
"That I cannot say for certain. Yet if Tristram and Palamides be in this
country then it is they and La Belle Isolde."
Then Arthur turned to Kay and said,--
"Go to the hall and see how many Knights of the Round Table are missing,
and bring me word."
Kay did so, and found by the roll of knights that ten were
wanting,--Tristram, Dinadan, and eight others.
"Then I dare say," remarked Arthur, "that some of these are here to-day
against us."
The tournament began with a combat in which two knights, cousins to
Gawaine, named Sir Edward and Sir Sadok, rode against the king of Scots
and the king of North Wales and overthrew them both. This Palamides saw,
and in return he spurred upon these victorious knights and hurled both
of them from their saddles.
"What knight is that in green?" asked Arthur. "He is a mighty jouster."
"You will see him do better yet," said Gawaine. "It was he that unhorsed
me and seven others two days ago."
As they stood talking Tristram rode into the lists on a black horse, and
within a few minutes he smote down four knights of Orkney, while Gareth
and Dinadan each unhorsed a good knight.
"Yonder is another fellow of marvellous arm," said Arthur; "that green
knight on the black horse."
"He has not begun his work yet," said Gawaine. "It is plain that he is
no common man."
And so it proved, for Sir Tristram pushed fiercely into the press,
rescued the two kings who had been unhorsed, and did such mighty work
among the opposing party that all who saw him marvelled to behold one
man do so many valiant deeds. Nor was the career of Palamides less
marvellous to the spectators.
King Arthur, who watched them both with admiring eyes, likened Tristram
to a furious lion, and Palamides to a maddened leopard, and Gareth and
Dinadan, who seconded them strongly, to eager wolves. So fiercely did
Tristram rage, indeed, among the knights of Orkney that at length they
withdrew from the field, as no longer able to face him.
Then loud went up the cry of the heralds and the common people,--
"The green knight has beaten all Orkney!" And the heralds took account
that not less than fifty knights had been smitten down by the four
champions in green.
"This will not do," said Arthur. "Our party will be overmatched if these
fellows rage on at such a rate. Come, Lancelot, you and Hector and
Bleoberis must try your hands, and I will make a fourth."
"Let it be so," answered Lancelot. "Let me take him on the black horse,
and Bleoberis him on the white. Hector shall match him on the gray
horse" (Sir Gareth).
"And I," said Arthur, "will face the knight on the grizzled steed" (Sir
Dinadan).
With this conversation they armed and rode to the lists. Here Lancelot
rode against Tristram and smote him so hard a blow that horse and man
went to the earth, while his three companions met with the same ill
fortune from their new antagonists.
This disaster raised a cry throughout the lists: "The green knights are
down! Rescue the green knights! Let them not be held prisoners!" For the
understanding was that any unhorsed knight not rescued by his own
strength or by his fellows should be held as prisoner.
Then the king of North Wales rode straight to Tristram, and sprang from
his horse, crying,--
"Noble knight, I know not of what country you are, but beg you to take
my horse, for you have proved yourself worthier to bestride it than I
am."
"Many thanks," said Tristram. "I shall try and do you as welcome a turn.
Keep near us, and I may soon win you another horse."
Then he sprang to the saddle, and meeting with King Arthur struck him so
fierce a sword-blow on the helm that he had no power to keep his saddle.
"Here is the horse promised you," cried Tristram to the king of North
Wales, who was quickly remounted on King Arthur's horse.
Then came a hot contest around the king, one party seeking to mount him
again and the other to hold him prisoner. Palamides thrust himself, on
foot, into the press, striking such mighty blows to the right and left
that the whole throng were borne back before him. At the same time
Tristram rode into the thickest of the throng of knights and cut a way
through them, hurling many of them to the earth.
This done, he left the lists and rode to his pavilion, where he changed
his horse and armor; he who had gone forth as a green knight coming back
to the fray as a red one.
When Queen Isolde saw that Tristram was unhorsed, and lost sight of him
in the press, she wept greatly, fearing that some harm had come to him.
But when he rode back she knew him in an instant, despite his red
disguise, and her heart swelled anew with joy as she saw him with one
spear smite down five knights. Lancelot, too, now knew him, and withdrew
from the lists lest he should encounter him again.
All this time Tristram's three friends had not been able to regain their
saddles, but now he drove back the press and helped them again to horse,
and, though they knew him not in his new array, they aided him with all
their knightly prowess.
When Isolde, at her window, saw what havoc her chosen knight was making,
she leaned eagerly forth and laughed and smiled in delight. This
Palamides saw, and the vision of her lovely and smiling countenance
filled his soul so deeply with love's rejoicing that there seemed to
flow into him the strength and spirit of ten men, and, with a shout of
knightly challenge, he pressed forward, smiting down with spear and
sword every man he encountered. For his heart was so enamoured by the
vision of that charming face that Tristram or Lancelot would then have
had much ado to stand before him.
"Truly Palamides is a noble warrior," said Tristram, when he beheld
this. "I never saw him do such deeds as he has done this day, nor heard
of his showing such prowess."
"It is his day," said Dinadan, simply. But to himself he said, "If you
knew for whose love he does these valorous deeds, you would soon be in
the field against him."
"It is a crying pity that so brave a knight should be a pagan," said
Tristram.
"It is my fancy," said Dinadan to himself, "that you may thank Queen
Isolde for what you have seen; if she had not been here to-day that
shouting throng would not be giving Palamides the palm of the tourney."
At this juncture Lancelot came again into the field, and hearing the
outcry in favor of Palamides he set his spear in rest and spurred upon
him. Palamides, seeing this, and having no spear, coolly awaited
Lancelot, and as he came up smote his spear in two with a sword-stroke.
Then he rushed upon him and struck his horse so hard a blow in the neck
that the animal fell, bearing his rider to the ground.
Loud and fierce was the outcry then: "Palamides the Saracen has smitten
Sir Lancelot's horse! It is an unknightly deed!"
And Hector de Maris, seeing his brother Lancelot thus unfairly
dismounted, rushed upon Palamides in a rage, and bore him from his horse
with a mighty spear-thrust.
"Take heed to yourself, sirrah," cried Lancelot, springing towards him
sword in hand. "You have done me a sorry deed, and by my knightly honor
I will repay you for it."
"I humbly beg your pardon, noble sir," answered Palamides. "I have done
so much this day that I have no power or strength left to withstand you.
Forgive me my hasty and uncourteous deed, and I promise to be your
knight while I live."
"You have done marvellously well indeed," said Lancelot. "I understand
well what power moves you. Love is a mighty mistress, and if she I love
were here to-day you should not bear away the honor of the field, though
you have nobly won it. Beware that Tristram discovers not your love, or
you may repent it. But I have no quarrel with you, and will not seek to
take from you the honor of the day."
So Lancelot suffered Palamides to depart, and mounted his own horse
again, despite twenty knights who sought to hinder him. Lancelot,
Tristram, and Palamides did many more noble deeds before that day's end,
and so great became the medley at length that the field seemed a dense
mass of rearing and plunging horses and struggling knights.
At length Arthur bade the heralds to blow to lodging and the fray ended.
And since Palamides had been in the field from first to last, without
once withdrawing, and had done so many, noble and valiant deeds, the
honor and the prize for the day were unanimously voted him, a judgment
which Arthur and the kings of his counsel unanimously confirmed.
But when Palamides came to understand that the red knight who had
rescued him was Sir Tristram his heart was glad, for all but Dinadan
fancied he had been taken prisoner. Much was the talk upon the events of
the day, and great the wonder of king and knights at the remarkable
valor of the Saracen knight.
"And yet I well know," said Lancelot, "that there was a better knight
there than he. And take my word for it, this will be proved before the
tournament ends."
This also thought Dinadan, and he rallied his friend Tristram with
satirical tongue.
"What the fiend has ailed you to-day?" he asked. "Palamides grew in
strength from first to last, but you have been like a man asleep, or a
coward knight."
"I was never called coward before," said Tristram, hotly. "The only fall
I got was from Lancelot, and him I hold as my better, and for that
matter the better of any man alive."
But Dinadan kept up his railing accusations till the growing anger of
Tristram warned him to desist. Yet this was all from friendship, not
from spite, for he wished to stir up his friend to do his best in the
lists the coming day, and not permit the Saracen again to carry off the
prize.
CHAPTER VI.
THE SECOND DAY OF THE TOURNAMENT.
When the next morning dawned, Tristram, Palamides, and Gareth, with La
Belle Isolde and her ladies, all arrayed as before in green, took horse
at an early hour, and rode into the fresh forest. But Dinadan was left
still asleep in bed. As they passed the castle at a little distance, it
chanced that King Arthur and Lancelot saw them from an upper window.
"Yonder rideth the fairest lady of the world," said Lancelot, "always
excepting your queen, Guenever."
"Who is it?" asked Arthur.
"It is La Belle Isolde, Cornwall's queen and Tristram's lady-love."
"By my troth, I should like to see her closer," said the king. "Let us
arm and mount, and ride after them."
This they did, and in a short time were on the track of the gay
cavalcade they had seen.
"Let us not be too hasty," warned Lancelot. "There are some knights who
resent being intruded on abruptly; particularly if in the company of
ladies."
"As for that, we must take our chances," said Arthur. "If they feel
aggrieved I cannot help it, for I am bent on seeing Queen Isolde."
Seeing Tristram and his companions just in advance, Arthur rode briskly
up and saluted Isolde courteously, saying, "God save you, fair lady."
"Thanks for your courtesy, sir knight," she replied.
Then Arthur looked upon her charming countenance, freshened by the
morning air, and thought in his mind that Lancelot had spoken but the
truth, and that no more beautiful lady lived. But at this moment
Palamides rode up.
"Sir knight, what seek you here?" he asked. "It is uncourteous to come
on a lady so suddenly. Your intrusion is not to our liking, and I bid
you to withdraw."
Arthur paid no heed to these words, but continued to gaze upon Isolde,
as one stricken with admiration. Seeing this, Palamides flamed into
anger, and spurred fiercely upon the king, with spear in rest, smiting
him from his horse.
"Here is an awkward business," said Lancelot to himself. "If I ride down
Palamides I shall have Tristram on me; and the pair of them would be too
much for me. This comes from too head-strong a will. But whether I live
or die I must stand by my lord and king." Then riding forward, he called
to Palamides, "Keep thee from me!"
Fierce was the onset with which they met, but it ended in Lancelot's
favor, for Palamides was flung from his saddle and had a hard fall.
When Tristram saw this he called to Lancelot, "Be on your guard, sir
knight. You have unhorsed my comrade, and must joust with me."
"I have no dread of that," said Lancelot; "and yet I did but avenge my
lord, who was unhorsed unwarily and unknightly. You have no cause for
displeasure; for no honorable knight could stand by and see his friend
ill-treated."
Tristram now felt sure that it was Lancelot who spoke, and that it was
King Arthur whom Palamides had unhorsed. He therefore laid aside his
spear and helped Palamides again to his saddle, while Lancelot did the
same for the king.
"That deed of thine was not knightly nor courteous," said Tristram,
sternly to Palamides, after the others had departed. "I cannot see any
harm in a knight accosting a lady gently and courteously; nor am I
pleased to have you play such masteries before my lady. If I deem her
insulted, I am quite able myself to protect her. And if I am not
mistaken, it was King Arthur you assailed so rudely, and the other was
Lancelot du Lake. You may yet have to pay for your violence."
"I cannot think," said Palamides, "that the great Arthur would ride thus
secretly arrayed as a poor knight-errant."
"Then you know him not," said Tristram. "No knight living is fonder of
adventure. King Arthur is always ready to take his part as an errant
knight, nor does he bear malice against those who may overthrow him when
in disguise. I tell you, Palamides, that our king is the true model of
knightly honor, and that the best of us might learn from him."
"If it were he I am sorry," said Palamides. "I may have been over-hasty.
But a thing that is done cannot be undone, and I must abide the
consequences."
Then Tristram sent Isolde to her lodging in the priory, from which she
might behold the tournament, and made ready to enter the lists.
Fierce was the shock of the first encounter of the knights, and the
three champions in green began the day with many deeds of might.
"How feel you?" asked Tristram of Palamides. "Are you able to repeat
yesterday's work?"
"Hardly," was the reply. "I am weary and sore yet from my hard labors."
"I am sorry for that, as I shall miss your aid."
"Trust not to me," answered Palamides. "I have not much work left in
me."
"Then I must depend on you," said Tristram to Gareth. "We two should be
able to make our mark. Keep near me and rescue me if I get in trouble,
and I will do the same for you."
"I shall not fail you," was the reply.
Leaving them, Palamides rode off by himself, and, pushing into the
thickest press of the men of Orkney, did such deeds of arms that
Tristram looked on in amazement.
"Is that his soreness and weariness?" he asked. "I fancy he is weary of
my company, and wishes to win all the honor to his own hand."
"That is what Dinadan meant yesterday when he called you coward," said
Gareth. "He but wished to stir you to anger so that Palamides should not
rob you of credit."
"By my faith, if Palamides bears me ill will and envy I shall show him
what a knight of Cornwall can do. He has gained the acclamations of the
crowd already. He has left our company and we owe him no courtesy. You
shall see me rob him of his honors."
Then Tristram rode into the thickest of the press, and laid about him
with such might that all eyes were turned upon him, and men began to
say, "There is a greater than Palamides come into the field."
"Is it not as I told you?" said Lancelot to Arthur. "I said you would
this day see the Saracen distanced."
"It is true enough," answered Arthur. "Palamides has not such strength
of arm."
"It is Tristram himself you look upon."
"That I can well believe," said Arthur. "Such knights as he do not grow
like mushrooms in every field."
The noise from the other part of the lists now drew the attention of
Palamides, and when he saw what puissant deeds his late comrade was
doing he wept for spite, for he saw that the honor of that day was not
for him.
Seeing to what straits their party was put, Arthur and Lancelot and many
other knights now armed and rode into the field, and by their aid so
changed the tide of victory that the other side was driven quite back,
until Tristram and Gareth stood alone, bravely abiding all who came upon
them. But Lancelot and his kinsmen kept purposely away from them.
"See," said Lancelot to Arthur, "how Palamides hovers yonder like one in
a dream, sick, I fancy, from envy of Tristram."
"Then he is but a fool," said the king. "He is not and never was the
match of Tristram. I am glad to see the fellow repaid for the way he
served me this morning."
As they stood thus conversing, Tristram withdrew quietly from the lists,
his going noted only by Isolde and Palamides, who kept their eyes upon
him. He rode back to his pavilions, where he found Dinadan still asleep,
his slumbers not broken by all the uproar of the tournament.
"As I am a living man, here is a lusty sleeper," cried Tristram. "Wake,
Dinadan. The day is half spent and the field half won, and here you are
still a-bed."
At this Dinadan sprang hastily up and rubbed his eyes.
"I dreamt of wars and jousts," he said. "And, i' faith, I like that way
the best, for one gets all the good of the fight and is safe from sore
limbs and aching bones. But what's to do?"
"Get on your harness and ride with me to the field. You will find
something there to waken you up."
Dinadan, as he armed, noted Tristram's battered shield, and remarked,--
"I slept both well and wisely, it seems. If I had been there I must have
followed you, from shame if not from courage. And by the looks of your
shield I would have been worse battered than I was yesterday. Why did
you not let me sleep out the balance of it, friend Tristram?"
"A truce with your jests. Come, we must to the field again."
"How now, is there a new deal in the game? Yesterday you did but dream;
to-day you seem awake."
Meanwhile Tristram had changed his armor, and now was attired all in
black.
"You have more fight in you than you had yesterday, that is sure," said
Dinadan. "Did I stir up your sleeping spirit?"
"It may be so," said Tristram, smiling. "Keep well up to me, and I shall
make you a highway through the press. If you see me overmatched, do what
you can to aid me."
When ready they took their horses and rode back to the lists, where
Isolde and Palamides noted their entrance. When the Saracen saw that
Tristram was disguised, a new fancy came into his scheming brain.
Leaving the lists, he rode to where a knight sat sorely wounded under a
tree outside. Him he prayed for an exchange of armor, saying that his
own was too well known in the field, and that he wished for a disguise.
"That is very true," said the knight, as he recognized the green armor.
"You have made your array somewhat too well known. You are welcome to my
arms, if they will be of use to you. They will gain more credit in your
hands than they have won in mine."
Palamides thereupon exchanged armor with him, and, taking his shield,
which shone like silver, rode into the field. He now joined the party of
King Arthur, and rode spitefully against Tristram, who had just struck
down three knights. They met with such force that both spears splintered
to their hands, though neither lost his seat. Then they dashed eagerly
together with drawn swords and fought with the courage and fury of two
lions. But Tristram wondered much what knight this was that faced him
so valiantly, and grew angry as he felt that he was wasting in this
single combat the strength he wished to treasure up for the day's work.
La Belle Isolde, who had watched Palamides from her window, had seen him
change his armor with the wounded knight. And when his treacherous
purpose came to her mind she wept so heartily and was so deeply
disturbed that she swooned away.
At this juncture in the fray Lancelot rode again into the field, and
when the knights of Arthur's party saw him the cry went up. "Return,
return, here comes Sir Lancelot du Lake!"
And some said to him, "Sir Lancelot, yonder knight in the black harness
is your man. He is the best of our opponents, and has nearly overcome
the good knight with the silver shield."
At this Lancelot rode between the combatants, and cried to Palamides,--
"Let me have this battle; you need repose."
Palamides knew Lancelot, and readily gave way, hoping through his mighty
aid to gain revenge upon his rival. Then Lancelot fell upon Tristram,
and, unknowing who he was, dealt him blows that would have stunned a
less hardy fighter. Tristram returned them but feebly, for he knew well
with whom he fought. And Isolde, who saw it all, was half out of her
mind with grief.
Dinadan now told Gareth who the knight in black armor was, and said,
"Lancelot will get the better of him, for one is weary and the other
fresh, and Tristram is not fighting with his old vim. Let us to his
aid."
"I am with you," said Gareth. "Yonder fellow with the silver shield is
waiting to fall on Tristram, if he can to advantage. It is our business
to give our friend what help we can."
Then they rode in, and Gareth struck Lancelot a sword-blow that made his
head swim, while Dinadan followed with a spear-thrust that bore horse
and man together to the earth.
"Why do you this?" cried Tristram, angrily. "It is not a knightly act,
and does not that good knight any dishonor. I was quite his match
without you."
Then Palamides came to Lancelot's aid, and a close medley of fighting
began, in which Dinadan was unhorsed and Tristram pulled Palamides from
his saddle, and fell with him. Dinadan now sprang up and caught
Tristram's horse by the bridle, calling out, with purpose to end the
fight,--
"My lord Sir Tristram, take your horse."
"What is this?" cried Lancelot. "What have I done? Sir Tristram, why
came you here disguised? Surely I would not have drawn sword on you, had
I known you."
"Sir," said Tristram, "this is not the first honor you have done me."
Then they mounted their horses again, while the people on one side gave
Lancelot the honor of the fray, and those on the other side gave it to
Tristram.
"The honor is not mine," said Lancelot. "He has been longer in the
field, and has smitten down many more knights; so I give my voice for
Sir Tristram, and pray to all my lords and fellows to do the same."
This was the verdict of the judges, and the prize of that day's tourney
was by all voted to the noble Sir Tristram.
Then the trumpets blew to lodging, and the knights left the field, while
Queen Isolde was conducted to her pavilion. But her heart burned hot
with wrath against Palamides, all whose treachery she had seen. As
Tristram rode forward with Gareth and Dinadan, Palamides joined them,
still disguised.
"Sir knight," said Tristram, "you are not of our party, and your company
is not welcome. So begone."
"Not I," he answered. "One of the best knights in the world bade me keep
fellowship with you, and till he relieve me from that service I must
obey him."
"Ha, Palamides, I know you now!" said Tristram. "But, by my faith, I did
not know you before, for I deemed you a worthy knight and not a traitor.
I could have handled you well enough, but you brought Lancelot to your
aid against me."
"Are you my lord, Sir Tristram?" said Palamides, in a tone of surprise.
"That you know, well enough."
"How should I know it any more than you knew me? I deemed you the king
of Ireland, for you bear his arms."
"I won them in battle, from his champion Sir Marhaus," said Tristram.
"Sir," answered Palamides, "I fancied you had joined Lancelot's party,
and that caused me to turn to the same side."
"If that be so, I forgive you," said Tristram.
But when they reached the pavilion and had disarmed and washed, and were
come to table, Isolde grew red with wrath on seeing Palamides.
"You traitor and felon!" she cried, "how dare you thrust yourself into
this goodly company? You know not how falsely he has treated you, my
lord Tristram. I saw it all. He watched you when you rode to your tent
and donned the black armor. Then he changed armor with a wounded knight
and rode back and wilfully changed sides, and drew sword upon you. I saw
it all, my lord, and I impeach him of treason."
"Madam," said Palamides, calmly, "you may say what you will. I cannot in
courtesy deny you. Yet by my knighthood I declare I knew not Sir
Tristram."
"I will take your excuse," said Tristram, "though it seems a lame one.
You spared me little in the field, but all that I have pardoned."
At this, Isolde held down her head in despite and said no more.
While they were still at table two knights rode to the pavilions, and
entered in full armor.
"Fair sirs," said Tristram, "is this courtesy, to come upon us thus
armed at our meal?"
"We come with no ill intent," said one, "but as your friends, Sir
Tristram."
"I am come," said the other, "to greet you as a friend and comrade, and
my companion is eager to see and welcome La Belle Isolde."
"Then remove your helms, that I may see what guests I have."
"That we do, willingly."
No sooner were their helmets off than Tristram sprang hastily to his
feet.
"Madam, arise," he cried; "this is none less than my lord King Arthur;
and this my very dear friend Sir Lancelot."
Then the king and queen kissed, and Lancelot and Tristram warmly
embraced, while deep joy filled all hearts there. At the request of
Isolde the visitors removed their armor and joined them at their meal.
"Many is the day that I have longed to see you," said Arthur to Isolde,
"for much praise have I heard of you, and not without warrant. For a
nobler match for beauty and valor than you and Sir Tristram the world
does not hold."
"We thank you heartily," replied Tristram and Isolde. "Such praise from
King Arthur is the highest honor that men's lips could give."
Then they talked of other things, but mainly of the tournament.
"Why were you against us?" asked Arthur. "You are a Knight of the Round
Table, and have fought to-day against your own."
"Here is Dinadan, and your own nephew Gareth. You must blame them for
that," said Tristram, smiling.
"You may lay all the blame on my shoulders, if Tristram wishes it," said
Gareth.
"Not on mine, then," said Dinadan. "Mine are only broad enough to carry
my own sins. It was this unhappy Tristram brought us to the tournament,
and I owe to him a whole body full of aches and pains as it is, without
taking any of his sins in my sack, to boot."
At this the king and Lancelot laughed heartily, and the more so at the
sour grimace with which Dinadan ended.
"What knight was he with the shield of silver that held you so short?"
asked Arthur.
"Here he sits," said Tristram.
"What! was it Palamides?"
"None less than he," said Isolde.
"That was not a courteous action."
"Sir," said Palamides, "Tristram was so disguised that I knew him not."
"That may well be," said Lancelot, "for I knew him no better."
"However it be, we are friends again," said Tristram, "and I hope will
continue so."
And so the evening passed, till the time came for Arthur and Lancelot to
take their leave.
That night Palamides slept not for the pain and envy that burned in his
heart. But when his friends entered his chamber in the morning they
found him fast asleep, with his cheeks stained with tears.
"Say nothing," said Tristram. "The poor fellow has been deeply wounded
by the rebuke that I and Isolde gave him. Lay no heavier load upon his
heart."
CHAPTER VII.
THE WOES OF TWO LOVERS.
Early on the third morning of the tournament the knights of Tristram's
party were up and armed, they now being all arrayed in red, as was also
Isolde and her maidens. And rare was the show they made as they rode
gayly to the priory, where they left Isolde and her maidens to occupy
their proper seats. As the knights turned thence towards the field they
heard three loud bugle-blasts, and saw the throng of armed knights press
eagerly forward, while already from the listed space came the thunder of
hoofs and the cries of combatants.
Into the field they rode, Palamides in advance, and such havoc did he
make in the opposing ranks that shouts of approval went up from all the
seats. But Tristram now rode forward at the full speed of his great
war-horse, hurled Kay the seneschal from his saddle, smote down three
other knights with the same spear, and then, drawing his sword, laid
about him like a roused giant.
Quickly changed the cry from Palamides. "O Tristram! O Tristram!"
shouted the throng of spectators, and the deeds of this new champion
threw those of the former victor into the shade.
Gareth and Dinadan also nobly aided the two champions, rousing the
admiration of Arthur and Lancelot by their gallantry, and the four
knightly comrades soon cleared a wide space in the ranks before them.
"Come," said Arthur, "we must to the rescue, or our side will be driven
from the field before the day is an hour old. See how the others crowd
in on Tristram's steps, like wolves to the prey."
Then he and Lancelot hastily armed and sought the field, where they
quickly fought their way into the thickest press of the tumult.
Tristram, not knowing them, rode upon them and thrust King Arthur from
his horse, and when Lancelot rushed to his rescue he was surrounded with
such an eager host that he was pulled from his saddle to the ground.
Seeing this, the kings of Ireland and Scotland, with their knights,
rushed forward to take Lancelot and Arthur prisoners. But they counted
without their host, for the dismounted knights laid about them like
angry lions, driving back all who came near them. Of all that passed in
that hot turmoil it were too much to say. Many a knight there did deeds
of great prowess, and Arthur and Lancelot being mounted again, strewed
the earth with fallen knights, Lancelot that day unhorsing thirty
warriors. Yet the other side held so firmly together that, with all
their ardent labor, Arthur and his party were overmatched.
At this juncture, Tristram turned to his companions and said,--
"My good comrades, I begin to fancy that we are to-day on the wrong
side. King Arthur's party is overborne more by numbers than valor, for I
must say I never saw so few men do so well. It would be a shame for us,
who are Knights of the Round Table, to see our lord Arthur and our good
comrade Lancelot dishonored. I am in the humor to change sides, and help
our king and liege lord."
"We are with you in that," cried Gareth and Dinadan. "We have been
fighting against the grain these three days."
"Do as you will," said Palamides. "I shall not change my hand in the
midst of the fray."
"As you will," said Tristram. "You are your own master. Speed well in
your way, and we will do our best in ours."
Then he, Gareth, and Dinadan drew out of the press and rode round to
Arthur's side, where they lent such noble aid that the fortune of the
field quickly changed, and the opposing party began to give ground. As
for Palamides, King Arthur struck him so fierce a blow that he was
hurled from his horse, while Tristram and Lancelot unhorsed all before
them. Such havoc did they make, indeed, that the party of the opposing
kings was soon in full flight from the field, bearing Palamides, who
wept for rage and grief, with them.
Then rarely sounded the trumpets, and loudly shouted the spectators,
while the names of Tristram and Lancelot were in every mouth, some
voting one the prize, some the other. But neither of these good comrades
would have it alone, so that in the end it was divided between them.
When evening drew near, and the knights had all withdrawn to their
pavilions, Palamides rode up to that of Sir Tristram, in company with
the kings of Wales and Scotland. Here he drew up his horse, praying his
companions to wait a while while he spoke to the knight within. Then he
cried loudly at the entrance,--
"Where are you, Tristram of Lyonesse?"
"Is that you, Palamides?" answered the knight. "Will you not dismount
and join us?"
"I seek better company, sir traitor," cried Palamides, in tones that
trembled with fury. "I hate you now as much as I once esteemed you, and
bear this in mind, if it were daylight as it is night, I would slay you
with my own hands. You shall die yet for this day's deeds."
"You blame me wrongly, Palamides," said Tristram, mildly. "If you had
done as I advised you would have won honor instead of disgrace. Why come
you here seeking to lay your own fault on me? Since you give me such
broad warning, I shall be well on my guard against you."
"Well you may, sir dastard, for I love you not," and, fiercely spurring
his horse, the hot-blooded Saracen joined his kingly companions.
When the next day dawned the festive array which had long spread bustle
and splendor round Lonazep broke up, and knights and ladies rode off in
all directions through the land, to carry far and wide the story of the
wondrous deeds of valor that had been performed at the great tournament.
Tristram and his two comrades, with Hector de Maris and Bleoberis,
escorted La Belle Isolde to Joyous Gard, where for seven days the guests
were nobly entertained, with all the sports and mirthfulness that could
be devised. King Arthur and his knights drew back to Camelot, and
Palamides rode onward with the two kings, his heart torn with mingled
sorrow and despair. Not alone was he in grief for his disgrace in the
field, under the eyes of her he loved, but was full as sorrowful for the
hot words he had spoken in his wrath to Tristram, who had been so kind
and gentle to him that his heart was torn to think how falsely and
treacherously he had requited him.
His kingly companions would have had him stay with them, but he could
not be persuaded, so the king of Ireland presented him with a noble
courser, and the king of Scotland with valuable gifts, and he rode his
way, still plunged in a grief that was almost despair. Noon brought him
to a forest fountain, beside which lay a wounded knight, who sighed so
mournfully that the very leaves on the trees seemed to sigh in echo.
"Why mourn you so, fair knight?" asked Palamides, mildly. "Or if you
care not to tell, at least let me lie beside you and join my moans to
yours, for I dare say I have a hundredfold deeper cause for grief, and
we may ease our hearts by mutual complaints."
"What is your name, gentle sir?"
"Such as I am, for better or worse, men call me Palamides, son to King
Astlabor."
"Noble sir, it solaces me much to meet you. I am Epinegris, son to the
king of Northumberland. Now repose you on this mossy bank and let us
tell our woes, and so ease somewhat our sad hearts."
Then Palamides dismounted and laid himself beside the wounded knight.
"This is my source of woe," he said. "I love the fairest queen that ever
drew breath, La Belle Isolde, Cornwall's queen."
"That is sheer folly," said Epinegris, "for she loves none but Tristram
de Lyonesse."
"Know I it not? I have been in their company this month, daily reaping
sorrow. And now I have lost the fellowship of Tristram and the love of
Isolde forever, through my envy and jealousy, and never more shall a
glad thought enter my sorrowful heart."
"Did she ever show you signs of love?"
"Never. She hated me, I fear. And the last day we met she gave me such a
rebuke that I will never recover from it:--yet well I deserved it by my
unknightly acts. Many great deeds have I done for her love, yet never
shall I win a smile from her eyes."
"Deep is your grief, indeed," said Epinegris, with a heart-breaking
sigh, "yet it is but a jest to my sorrow. For my lady loved me, and I
won her with my hands. But, alas! this day I have lost her and am left
here to moan. I took her from an earl and two knights that were with
her; but as we sat here this day, telling each other of our loves, there
came an errant knight, named Helior de Preuse, and challenged me to
fight for my lady. You see what followed. He wounded me so that he left
me for dead and took my lady with him. So my sorrow is deepest, for I
have rejoiced in my love, and you never have. To have and lose is far
worse than never to own."
"That is true," said Palamides. "But yet I have the deepest cause for
grief, for your love is not hopeless, like mine. And I shall prove this,
for if I can find this Helior he shall be made to yield you your lady,
unless he prove able to deal with me as he has with you."
Then he helped Epinegris on his horse and led him to a hermitage near
by, where he left him under the care of the holy hermit. Here Palamides
stayed not long, but walked out under the shadow of the green leaves, to
be a while alone with his woes. But not far had he gone before he saw
near him a knight, who bore a shield that he had seen Hector de Maris
wear. With him were ten other knights, who sheltered themselves from the
noontide heat under the green leaves.
As they stood there another knight came by whose shield was green, with
a white lion in its midst, and who led a lady on a palfrey. As he came
up, the knight who bore Sir Hector's shield rode fiercely after him, and
bade him turn and defend his lady.
"That I must, in knightly duty," cried the other.
Then the two knights rode together with such might that horses and men
together were hurled to the earth. Drawing their swords, they now fought
sturdily for the space of an hour. In the end the knight of the white
lion was stricken to the earth and forced to beg for his life.
Palamides stood under the leaves, watching this combat till it came to
its end. Then he went to the lady, whom he believed to be her whom he
had promised to rescue. Taking her gently by the hand, he asked her if
she knew a knight named Epinegris.
"Alas! that ever I did," she sadly replied. "For his sake I have lost my
liberty, and for mine he has lost his life."
"Not so badly as that," said Palamides. "He is at yonder hermitage. I
will take you to him."
"Then he lives!" she cried in joy. "You fill my heart with gladness."
But not many steps had Palamides led her before the victorious knight
cried out in tones of fierce anger,--
"Loose the lady, sirrah! Whither take you her?"
"Whither I will?" answered Palamides.
"You speak largely, sir knave," cried the knight. "Do you fancy you can
rob me of my prize so lightly? Think it not, sirrah; were you as good a
knight as Lancelot or Tristram or Palamides, you should not have that
lady without winning her at a dearer rate than I did."
"If fight it is, I am ready for you," answered Palamides. "I promised to
bring this lady to her lover from whom yonder knight stole her, and it
will need more swords than one to make me break my word."
"We shall see if that be so," said the other, attacking him so fiercely
that Palamides had much ado to protect himself. They fought for so long
a time that Palamides marvelled much who this knight could be that
withstood him so sturdily after his late hard battle.
"Knight," he said, at length, "you fight like a hero. I would know your
name."
"You shall have it for yours in return."
"I agree to that."
"Then, sir, my name is Safere. I am son of King Astlobar, and brother to
Palamides and Segwarides."
"Then heaven defend me for having fought you, for I am your brother
Palamides."
At these words Safere fell upon his knees and begged his brother's
pardon; and then they unlaced their helms and kissed each other with
tears of joy.
As they stood thus, Epinegris advanced towards them, for he had heard
the sounds of fighting, and, wounded as he was, he came to help
Palamides if he should stand in need.
Palamides, seeing him approach, took the lady by the hand and led her to
him, and they embraced so tenderly that all hearts there were touched.
"Fair knight and lady," said Safere, "it would be a cruel pity to part
you, and I pray heaven to send you joy of each other."
"You have my sincere thanks," said Epinegris. "And deeper thanks has Sir
Palamides for what he has done for me this day. My castle is near by;
will you not ride there with me as a safeguard?"
"That we gladly will," they said, and when Epinegris had got his horse
they rode with him and the lady to the castle, where they were nobly
received and treated with the highest honor. They had such good cheer
and such enjoyment as they had rarely before known. And never burned the
flame of love more warmly than that between Epinegris and his rescued
lady.
CHAPTER VIII.
THE RIVALRY OF TRISTRAM AND PALAMIDES.
When morning again dawned over the forest and the smiling fields that
surrounded the castle of Epinegris, the two brothers rode out, taking
with them the blessings and prayers for good fortune of those they left
behind. But had they known into what deadly peril they ventured they
would not for days have left those hospitable gates.
For they rode on hour by hour, until afternoon came, and then found
themselves in front of a noble manor-house from which came to their ears
doleful sounds of woe and lamentation.
"What means this woful noise? Shall we enter and see?" said Safere.
"Willingly," answered Palamides.
Leaving their horses at the gates, they entered the court-yard, where
they saw an old man tremblingly fumbling his beads. But when they came
within the hall they beheld many men weeping and lamenting.
"Fair sirs, why make you such a moaning?" asked Palamides.
"We weep for our lord, who is slain," they dolefully replied.
But one of the knights observed the new-comers closely, and said
secretly to his fellows,--
"Know you not this man? Fortune has thrown into our hands the knight who
slew our lord at Lonazep. That tall fellow is Palamides. Let him not go
as easily as he came."
Hearing this, most of them quietly withdrew and armed themselves, and
then came suddenly upon their visitors to the number of threescore,
crying,--
"Defend yourself, if you can, Sir Palamides. We know you for the
murderer of our lord, and it is our duty to revenge him. Die you shall,
though you had the might of a giant."
Palamides and his brother, finding themselves in this desperate strait,
set themselves back to back in the midst of their assailants, and fought
like very giants, keeping their ground for two hours, though they were
attacked by twenty knights and forty gentlemen and yeomen. But strength
cannot hold out forever against odds, and at the end they were forced to
yield, and were locked up in a strong prison.
Within three days thereafter a court of twelve knights sat upon the
charge against them, and found Sir Palamides guilty of their lord's
death.
Sir Safere, who was adjudged not guilty, was given his liberty, and
bidden to depart from the castle. He parted with his brother in the
deepest woe.
"Dear brother, grieve not so greatly," said Palamides. "If die I must, I
shall meet death bravely. But had I dreamed of such a doom as this, they
should never have taken me alive."
[Illustration: Copyright 1895 by E. A. Abbey; from a Copely print
copyright 1896 by Curtis and Cameron.
THE DEPARTURE.]
Then Safere departed in untold sorrow, though not without hope of rescue
if he could raise a force to storm the castle. This he had no chance to
do, for on the next morning Palamides was sent under an escort of twelve
knights to the father of the dead knight, who dwelt in a strong castle
by the sea-side, named Pelownes, where it had been decided that the
sentence should be put into execution.
Palamides was placed on a sorry old steed with his feet bound beneath
it, and, surrounded by the guard of twelve armed knights, was taken
towards the place of death.
But through the favor of fortune their route lay by the castle of Joyous
Gard, and here they were seen by one who knew Palamides, and who asked
him whither he was borne.
"To my death," he answered, "for the slaying of a knight at the
tournament. Had I not left Sir Tristram this would not have happened to
me. I pray you, recommended me to your lord and to my lady Isolde, and
beg them to forgive me my trespasses against them. And also to my lord
King Arthur, and to all my fellows of the Round Table."
When the yeoman heard this he rode in all haste to Joyous Gard, where he
told Tristram of what he had seen and heard.
"To his death, you say?" cried Tristram. "And for an accident of the
tournament? Why, I and twenty others might be served in the same manner.
I have reason to be angry with Palamides, but he shall not die the death
of a dog if I can rescue him."
This said, he armed in all haste, and taking two squires with him, he
rode at a fast gallop towards the castle of Pelownes, hoping to overtake
the party before they could pass its gates.
But fortune had decreed that the prisoner should be otherwise rescued.
For as the guard of knights rode on their way they passed by a well
where Lancelot had alighted to drink of the refreshing waters.
When he saw the cavalcade approach he put on his helmet and stood
watching them as they passed. But his heart swelled with anger when he
saw Palamides disarmed and bound in their midst, and seemingly led to
his death.
"What means this?" he cried. "What has this knight done that deserves a
shameful death? Whatever it be, I cannot suffer him to be foully dealt
with."
Then he mounted and rode after the twelve knights, soon overtaking them.
"Sir knights," he said, "whither take you that gentleman? To ride thus
bound is not befitting for a man of his metal."
At this the guard of knights turned their horses and faced Lancelot.
"We counsel you not to meddle with us," they said, sternly. "This man
has deserved death, and to death he is adjudged."
"I tell you, sirs, it shall not be. He is too good a knight to die a
shameful death. Defend yourselves, then, for I will try my one hand
against your twelve, and rescue him or die in the effort."
The knights of the guard now put their spears in rest, and Lancelot rode
upon them with such fury that the foremost and three of those behind him
were hurled to the ground before his spear broke. Then he drew his sword
and laid about him so shrewdly that in a little time the whole twelve of
them were stretched upon the earth, most of them being sorely wounded.
Lancelot now cut the bonds of Palamides, mounted him upon the best of
their horses, and rode back with him towards Joyous Gard.
As they went forward they saw Sir Tristram approaching. Lancelot knew
him at sight, but was himself unknown, because he bore a golden shield
which neither Tristram nor Palamides recognized. He therefore mystified
them for a time, and declined to enter Joyous Gard on the plea that he
had other pressing business on hand. But when strongly entreated, he at
length consented, and entered the castle with them.
Great was their surprise and joy when he had unhelmed, to find that they
had their host for guest. Tristram took him in his arms, and so did
Isolde, while Palamides kneeled before him and thanked him for his life.
When Lancelot saw this he took him by the hand and made him rise.
"Good sirs," he said, "could I, or any knight of worship in this land,
hesitate to rescue from an ignoble death such a knight as Palamides? Had
there been fifty instead of twelve, I fear I should have braved them
all."
Much joy was there in Joyous Gard at the visit of the lord of the
castle, but Lancelot stayed there but four days. Palamides, however,
remained for two months and more, his love and grief growing deeper,
till he faded away to a shadow of himself.
One day, at the end of this time, he wandered far into the neighboring
forest, and here by chance saw the reflection of his face in a clear
pool. The wasted visage disturbed and affrighted him.
"What does this mean?" he asked himself. "Am I, who was called one of
the handsomest knights in the world, wasted to such a frightful figure?
I must leave this life, for it is idle to grieve myself to death for
that which I can never possess."
Then he threw himself beside the well, and from the fulness of his heart
began to make a song about La Belle Isolde and himself, a rhyme made up
of music, love, and grief.
As chance would have it, Tristram had ridden into the forest that day in
chase of the hart. And as he rode up and down under the green leaves the
summer air brought to his ears the sound of a voice singing loud and
clear. He rode softly towards the sound, for he deemed that some
knight-errant lay there solacing himself with song.
When he came nigh he tied his horse to a tree and advanced on foot. Then
he became aware that the singer was his guest Palamides, and that his
song was about La Belle Isolde, a doleful and piteous, yet marvellously
well-made song, which the singer sang loudly and in a clear voice.
Tristram stood listening till he had heard it from beginning to end. But
at the last his anger grew so high that he needed to restrain himself
from slaying the singer where he lay.
Remembering that Palamides was unarmed, he resisted this impulse, and
advanced slowly towards him.
"Sir Palamides," he said, in a gentle voice, "I have heard your song,
and learned your treason to your host. If it were not for the shame of
an unknightly act I would deal you here the meed you have earned. How
will you acquit yourself of treachery?"
"Thus will I," said Palamides, springing to his feet in his surprise.
"As for Queen Isolde, you may know well that I love her above all other
ladies in the world. I loved her before you ever saw her, as you know,
and have never ceased nor shall ever cease to love her. What honor I
have won is due for the most part to my love of her. Yet never for a
moment has she returned my love, and I have been her knight without
guerdon. Therefore I dread not death, for I had as lief die as live."
"Well have you uttered your treason," said Tristram.
"No treason is it," said Palamides. "Love is free to all men, and I have
a right to love any lady I will. If she return it not, no man is harmed.
Such wrong as is done I have suffered, not you, for your love is
returned and mine has brought me but pain. Yet I shall continue to love
La Belle Isolde to the end of my days as deeply as you can."
That there was reason in these words Tristram could not but have seen,
had not anger blinded his wisdom.
"None shall love my lady but myself," he cried, in passion. "And for
what you have said I challenge you to battle to the uttermost."
"I can never fight in a better quarrel," said Palamides. "And if you
slay me I can never die by a nobler hand. Since I cannot hope for favor
from La Belle Isolde, I have as good will to die as to live."
"Then set a day in which we shall do battle in this cause."
"Let it be fifteen days hence. And let the place be in the meadow under
Joyous Gard."
"Why so long a time?" demanded Tristram. "To-morrow will suit me
better."
"It is because I am meagre and weak, and have fallen away to a shadow
through hopeless love. I must rest until I get my strength again before
I can face so doughty a knight."
"So let it be, then," said Tristram. "Yet once before you broke a
promise to meet me in battle at the grave near Camelot."
"What could I do?" rejoined Palamides. "I was in prison, and could not
keep my word."
"If you had done so, there would have been no need of a fight now," said
Tristram, as he strode haughtily away.
Then Palamides took his horse and rode to Arthur's court, where he did
his utmost to rest and regain strength. When the appointed time
approached he returned, attended by four knights and four
sergeant-at-arms.
Meanwhile Tristram spent his time at the chase. And by evil fortune,
about three days before the time of battle, a wild arrow shot by an
archer at a hart struck him in the thigh and wounded him so deeply that
he could scarcely return to Joyous Gard.
Great was his heaviness of heart, and neither man nor woman could bring
him cheer, for it was now impossible to keep his word with his rival;
and his heart grew full of the fancy that Palamides himself had shot
that arrow, so as to prevent him doing battle on the appointed day. But
this no knight about Tristram would believe.
When the fifteenth day came Palamides appeared at the place fixed, with
the knights and sergeants whom he had brought with him to bear record of
the battle. One sergeant bore his helm, a second his spear, and a third
his shield. And for two hours he rested in the field, awaiting the
approach of his antagonist.
Then, seeing that Tristram failed to come, he sent a squire to Joyous
Gard to remind him of his challenge. When Tristram heard of this message
he had the squire brought to his chamber, and showed him his wound.
"Tell Sir Palamides," he said, "that were I able to come he would not
need to send for me, and that I had rather be whole to-day than have all
King Arthur's gold. Tell him, moreover, that as soon as I am able I
shall seek him throughout the land, as I am a true knight; and when I
find him he shall have his fill of battle."
This message the squire brought to his master, who heard it with much
secret satisfaction.
"I would have had hard handling of him, and very likely have been
vanquished," he said, "for he has not his equal in battle, unless it be
Sir Lancelot. So I am well content to give up the fight."
A month passed before Tristram was well. Then he took his horse and rode
from country to country in search of Palamides, having many strange
adventures by the way, but nowhere could he meet or hear of his rival
in love. But during his search Tristram did so many valiant deeds that
his fame for the time quite overtopped that of Lancelot, so much so that
Lancelot's kinsmen in their anger would have waylaid and slain the
valiant warrior.
For this jealousy Lancelot sternly rebuked them, saying,--
"Bear it well in mind, that if any of you does any harm to Sir Tristram,
that man shall I slay with my own hands. To murder a man like this for
his noble deeds! Out upon such base designs! Far rather should you
worship him for his valor and royal prowess."
And so time went on for the space of two years, during which Tristram
sought in vain for his rival.
At the end of that time he came home to Joyous Gard from one of his
journeys of adventure, and there was told by La Belle Isolde of a great
feast to be held at the court on the coming day of Pentecost, which she
counselled him strongly to attend.
Much debate passed between him and his lady-love on this subject, for he
was loth to go without her, and she cared not to go. In the end he
declared that he would obey her wishes, but would ride thither unarmed,
save for his sword and spear.
This he did, and though she in her loving anxiety sent after him four
knights, he sent them back within half a mile. Yet he soon had reason to
repent his rashness. For hardly had he gone a mile farther when he came
upon a wounded knight, who told him he owed his hurt to Sir Palamides.
What to do now, Tristram knew not. Near by was the foe he had so long
sought in vain, and he was unarmed. Should he ride back for his armor,
or go on as he was?
While he stood thinking, Palamides appeared, and knew him at sight.
"Well met, Sir Tristram!" he cried. "I have heard much of your search
for me. You have found me now, and we shall not part till we have
settled our old scores."
"As for that," answered Tristram, "no Christian can boast that I ever
fled from him, nor shall a Saracen make this boast, even if I be
unarmed."
Then he put his horse to the gallop and rode on Palamides with such fury
that his spear broke into a hundred pieces. Throwing it away, he drew
his sword and struck Palamides six great strokes upon the helm, while
the Saracen stood unresisting, and wondering at the folly and madness of
his foe. Then Tristram cried out in fury,--
"Coward knight, why stand you thus idly? You dare not do battle with me,
for doubt not but I can endure all your strength and malice."
"You know well, Sir Tristram," answered Palamides, "that I cannot in
honor strike at your unarmed head. If I should slay you thus, shame
would be my lot. As for your valor and hardiness, those I shall never
question."
"You speak well," answered Tristram.
"Tell me this," continued Palamides. "Were I here naked of armor, and
you full armed as I am, what would you do?"
"I shall not answer from fear, but from truthfulness. I would bid you
depart, as I could not have ado with you."
"No more can I with you," said Palamides, "therefore ride on your way."
"I shall ride or abide as I may choose," said Tristram. "But tell me
this, Palamides: how is it that so good a knight as you refuses to be
christened, as your brothers have long been?"
"I cannot become a Christian till a vow I made years ago is fulfilled. I
believe fully in Jesus Christ and His mild mother Mary; but there is one
battle yet I must fight, and when that is done I will be baptized with a
good will."
"If that is the battle with me," said Tristram, "you shall not long wait
for it. For God defend that through my fault you should continue a
Saracen. Yonder is a knight whom you have hurt. Help me to put on his
armor and I will aid you to fulfil your vow."
So they rode together to the wounded knight, who was seated on a bank.
Tristram saluted him, and he weakly returned the salute.
"Will you tell me your name, sir knight?" asked Tristram.
"I am Sir Galleron of Galway, and a Knight of the Round Table."
"I am sorry for your hurts, and beg you to lend me your armor, for I am
unarmed, and would do battle with this knight who wounded you."
"You shall have it with a good will. But you must beware, for this is no
common knight."
"I know him well," answered Tristram, "and have an old quarrel with
him."
"Will you kindly tell me your name?"
"My name is Tristram de Lyonesse."
"Then it was idle to warn you. Well I know your renown and worship; and
Sir Palamides is likely to have no light task."
Tristram now took off the armor of the wounded knight, who, as well as
he could, helped him to put it on himself. This accomplished, Tristram
mounted his horse and took in his hand Sir Galleron's spear.
Riding to where Palamides stood waiting, he bade him make ready. In a
minute more the two strong knights came hurtling together like two
lions. Each smote the other in the centre of the shield, but Palamides's
spear broke, while that of Tristram overturned the horse of Palamides.
In a moment the unhorsed knight had sprung to his feet and drawn his
sword, while Tristram alighted, tied his horse to a tree, and advanced
to the fray.
The combat that succeeded was a hard and well-fought one, as only it
could be between two such knights. For more than two hours it continued,
Tristram often bringing Palamides to his knees by his mighty strokes,
while Palamides cut through Tristram's shield and wounded him. Then, in
a fury of anger, Tristram rushed upon his rival and hurled him to the
earth. But in an instant the agile Saracen was on his feet again,
fighting with all his old strength and skill. And so the combat went on,
hour by hour, and, hard as Tristram fought, Palamides stood as nobly to
his work, and gave him stroke for stroke.
But, as fortune willed, in the end a fierce blow struck the sword from
Palamides's hand, nor dare he stoop for it, for fear of being slain. So
he stood moveless, regarding it with a sorrowful heart.
"Now," said Tristram, "I have you at advantage, as you had me this day.
But it shall never be said that Tristram de Lyonesse killed a weaponless
knight. Therefore take your sword, and let us make an end of this
battle."
"As for that, I am willing to end it now," said Palamides. "I have no
wish to fight longer. Nor can I think that my offence is such that we
may not be friends. All I have done is to love La Belle Isolde. You will
not say that I have done her aught of dishonor by holding that she is
peerless among ladies, or by the valor which love for her has given me.
As for such offence as I have given you, I have atoned for it this day,
and no one can say that I have not held my own like a man. But this I
will affirm, that I never before fought with a man of your might.
Therefore I beg you to forgive me for all wrongs which I have done you,
and as my vow is now fulfilled, I stand ready to go with you to the
nearest church, there to be confessed, and to receive baptism as a true
and earnest Christian knight."
"I gladly forgive you all you have done against me," said Tristram; "the
more so that you have done it rather from love than from hatred. It
fills my heart with joy to be the means of bringing the valiant
Palamides into the Church of Christ, and hereafter I shall hold you
among my best friends. Within a mile from here is the suffragan of
Carlisle, who will gladly give you the sacrament of baptism; and all
Christendom must rejoice to gain so noble a convert."
Then they took their horses and helped Galleron to his, and rode to the
church, where Tristram told the suffragan the purpose of their coming.
Proud to bring into the fold of the church so notable a convert, the
suffragan filled a great vessel with water, and hallowed it. This done,
he confessed and baptized Sir Palamides, while Tristram and Galleron
stood as his godfathers.
Afterwards the three knights rode to Camelot, much to the joy of the
king and queen, who gladly welcomed Tristram to their court, and were no
less glad to learn that the valiant Palamides had become a Christian,
and that the long rivalry between him and Tristram was at an end. The
great feast of Pentecost that followed was the merriest that had ever
been held at Arthur's court, and the merriest that ever would be, for
the breath of coming woe and trouble was in the air, and the time was
near at hand in which that worthy fellowship of noble knights was
destined to break up in dire disaster.
But first of all the tide of disaster came upon Tristram the brave and
Isolde the fair, as we must now relate. The chronicles tell the story at
length, but the record of treachery and crime had always best be short,
and so we shall make that of King Mark, the murderer.
Many years before the time to which we have now come, King Mark's
treachery had filled Cornwall with mischief and all the land with
horror, through a deed of frightful crime. And in thus wise it came
about. Cornwall had been invaded by a host of Saracens, but before they
could do any mischief, Prince Baldwin, King Mark's brother, attacked
them, burned their ships, and utterly destroyed them. Furious at heart
that his brother should win such honor, while he lay cowering with fear
in his castle, Mark invited him to Tintagil, with his wife and child.
There suddenly charging him with treason for attacking the Saracens
without orders, he stabbed him to the heart, and would have slain his
wife and child as well had not the lady Anglides fled for life with her
child.
Mark sent after them an old knight named Sir Sadok, with orders to bring
them back to Tintagil. But he suffered them to escape, and brought back
to the king a false tale that he had drowned the boy.
Many years now passed by, during which Baldwin's son, Alexander the
orphan, grew up to be a youth large of limb and strong of arm. In due
time he was made a knight, whereupon Anglides produced the bloody
doublet and shirt of her murdered husband, which she had carefully
preserved, and laid upon the young knight the duty of revenging his
father's death. The story of the crime had been diligently kept from
him, but he now accepted this heavy charge with alacrity, and vowed
solemnly to devote his life to the duty of revenging his murdered
father.
News of all this was quickly brought to King Mark, by a false knight who
hoped to win favor by turning informer.
"By my halidom," cried Mark, "whom can I trust? I fancied the young
viper was dead years ago. That false hound, Sadok, let him escape. As I
am a living man, he shall pay the penalty of his treason."
Seizing a sword, he burst furiously from the chamber, and rushed madly
through the castle in search of the knight who had deceived him. When
Sadok saw him coming, with fury in his face, he guessed what had
happened, and drew his own sword in haste.
"King Mark," he cried, "beware how you come nigh me. I saved the life of
Alexander, and glory in it, for you slew his father cowardly and
treacherously. And it is my hope and prayer that the youth may have the
strength and spirit to revenge the good Prince Baldwin on his murderer."
"What, traitor! What, dog! Do you dare rail thus at me?" cried the king,
and in a voice of fury he bade four knights of his following to slay the
traitor.
These knights drew their swords and advanced in a body on Sadok; but he
got the wall of them, and fought so shrewdly that he killed the whole
four in King Mark's presence.
Then, shaking his clinched fist at the king, he said,--
"I would add your false body to the heap, but that I leave you for
Alexander's revenge."
This said, he took horse and rode briskly away, and in all his court
Mark could not find a knight willing to pursue him, for all that held
with the king feared the old knight's sturdy arm.
King Mark now finding his wrath of no avail, set himself to devising
some scheme of treachery by which the danger that threatened him might
be removed. In the end he made a compact with Morgan le Fay and the
queen of Northgalis, both false sorceresses, in which they agreed to
fill the land with ladies that were enchantresses, and with false
knights like Malgrim and Breuse Sans Pite, so that the young knight
Alexander le Orphelin should be surrounded with magic and treachery, and
without doubt be taken prisoner or slain.
Soon after his knighting, Alexander set out for King Arthur's court, and
on the way there had many adventures, in which he proved himself a
knight of great valor and skill. Among these was a mighty battle with
the false knight Malgrim, whom in the end he killed.
But now Morgan le Fay sought to entrap him by her false devices. She
gave him a sleeping draught, and had him taken in a horse-litter to a
castle of hers named La Belle Regard.
Here she cured him of his wounds by healing salves, but not until he had
promised that he would not set foot beyond the boundaries of that castle
for a twelvemonth and a day. When he had recovered, Alexander chafed
bitterly at his confinement, for he felt sure that the pledge had been
exacted from him to save King Mark from his vow of revenge. Yet his word
held him close prisoner.
As one day he wandered through the halls of the castle, like a young
lion in a cage,--now heavy and sad, now burning with desire for
action,--there came to him a damsel who was cousin to Morgan le Fay, and
to whom the castle of La Belle Regard by right belonged.
"Sir knight," she said to him, "I find you doleful of aspect; yet I bear
tidings that should make you merry!"
"I pray you tell them to me," he answered. "I am here now a prisoner by
promise, but must say that time hangs very heavy on my hands."
"You are more of a prisoner than you deem," she replied. "My cousin,
Morgan le Fay, keeps you here for purposes of her own which you will
scarcely find to your liking."
"I fancy she keeps me here through an understanding with King Mark," he
rejoined. "I have no faith in her, but I cannot break my word of honor."
"Truly, fair sir," she said, "I pity your unhappy lot, and have a plan
in mind through which you may escape from this durance without loss of
honor."
"Do that and I shall owe you my life's service," he answered, warmly.
"Tell me, dear lady, by what means I can be freed."
"This I may justly say, that this castle of right belongs to me. I have
been unjustly deprived of it, and in right and honor you are my
prisoner, not Morgan's. I have an uncle who is a powerful nobleman, the
Earl of Pase, and who hates Morgan le Fay above all persons. I shall
send to him, and pray him for my sake to destroy this castle, which
harbors only evil customs. He will come at my wish and set fire to the
building throughout. As for you, I shall get you out at a private
postern, and there have your horse and armor ready."
"Truly, fair maiden, you are as wise as you are beautiful," he answered,
in eager accents. "Release me from imprisonment to Morgan and I will
hold myself your prisoner for life."
Then she sent to her uncle the earl, and bade him come and burn that
haunt of mischief,--a design which he already had in mind.
When the appointed day came the Earl of Pase sought the castle with four
hundred knights, and set fire to it in all parts, ceasing not his
efforts till there was not a stone left standing of the once proud
stronghold.
But Alexander was not willing to take this as a release from his vow,
but stationed himself within the limits of the space where had stood the
castle of La Belle Regard, and made it known far and wide that he would
hold that ground against all comers for a twelvemonth and a day.
Word of this knightly challenge soon came to Arthur's court, where was
then a lady of famous beauty and great estate, known as Alice la Belle
Pilgrim, daughter of Duke Ansirus, called the pilgrim, since he went on
a pilgrimage to Jerusalem every third year.
When this fair maiden heard of Alexander's challenge, she went into the
great hall of Camelot and proclaimed in the hearing of all the knights
that whoever should overcome the champion of La Belle Regard should wed
her and be lord of all her lands.
This done, she went to La Belle Regard, where she set up her pavilion
beside the piece of earth held by the young knight. And as the weeks
passed by there came from all directions knights who had heard of
Alexander's challenge and Alice's offer, and many a hard battle was
fought. Yet from them all Alexander came as victor.
But the more he triumphed over his knightly foes the deeper he fell
captive to his fair neighbor, for whom he grew to feel so deep a love
that it almost robbed him of his wits. Nor was his love unrequited, for
his valor and youthful beauty had filled her heart with as ardent a
passion for him in return, and she prayed as warmly for his victory in
every combat as though he had been her chosen champion.
And so time passed on, varied by fighting and love-making, till one day,
after Alexander had unhorsed two knights, there came to him the lady to
whom he owed the burning of the castle, who told Alice the whole story
of what had then occurred.
"You worked wisely and well," answered Alice. "Sir Alexander, indeed,
has not gained much more freedom, except it be freedom to fight. But
that is more his fault than yours."
"Have I not?" exclaimed the young knight. "I have gained freedom to love
also; for which I am ever beholden to this fair damsel."
At this Alice turned away with a rosy blush, while the maiden stood
regarding them with merry smiles.
"I have, by right, the first claim on you, Sir Alexander," she said.
"But if this fair lady wants you, I should be sorry to stand in love's
light. I yield my claim in her favor."
As they thus conversed in merry mood, three knights rode up, who
challenged Alexander to joust for the proffered prize of the hand and
estate of Alice la Belle Pilgrim. But the three of them got such falls
that they lost all desire to wed the lady, and, like all knights whom
Alexander overcame, they were made to swear to wear no arms for a
twelvemonth and a day.
Yet love may bring weakness as well as strength, as the young lover was
to find to his cost. For there came a day in which, as he stood looking
from his pavilion, he saw the lady Alice on horseback outside, and so
charming did she appear in his eyes that his love for her became almost
a frenzy. So enamoured was he that all thought of life and its doings
fled from his brain, and he grew like one demented.
While he was in this state of love-lorn blindness the false-hearted
knight Sir Mordred rode up with purpose to joust. But when he saw that
the youthful champion was besotted with admiration of his lady, and had
no eyes or mind for aught beside, he thought to make a jest of him, and,
taking his horse by the bridle, led him here and there, designing to
bring the lover to shame by withdrawing him from the place he had sworn
to defend.
When the damsel of the castle saw this, and found that no words of hers
would rouse Alexander from his blind folly, she burned with indignation,
and bethought her of a sharper means of bringing him back to his lost
senses.
So she put on her armor and took a sword in her hand, and, mounting a
horse, rode upon him with the fury of a knight, giving him such a buffet
on the helm that he thought that fire flew from his eyes.
When the besotted lover felt this stroke he came of a sudden to his
wits, and felt for his sword. But the damsel fled to the pavilion and
Mordred to the forest, so that Alexander was left raging there, with no
foe to repay for that stinging blow.
When he came to understand how the false knight would have shamed him,
his heart burned with wrath that Sir Mordred had escaped his hands. But
the two ladies had many a jest upon him for the knightly stroke which
the damsel had given him on the helm.
"Good faith," she said, "I knew not how else to bring back his strayed
wits. I fancy I would have given him some shrewd work to do if I had
chosen to stand against him. These men think that none but they can wear
armor and wield swords. I took pity on your champion, Alice, or it might
have gone hard with him," and she laughed so merrily that they could not
but join her in her mirth.
After that nearly every day Alexander jousted with knights of honor and
renown, but of them all not one was able to put him to the worse, and he
held his ground to the twelvemonth's end, proving himself a knight of
the noblest prowess.
When the year had reached its end and his pledge was fully kept, he
departed from that place with Alice la Belle Pilgrim, who afterwards
became his loving wife, and they lived together with great joy and
happiness in her country of Benoye.
But though he let love set aside for the time his vow of revenge on King
Mark, he did not forget the duty that lay before him, nor did that
evil-minded king rest at ease under the knowledge that an avenger was in
the land. Many a false scheme he devised to keep Alexander from his
court, and in the end his treacherous plots proved successful, for the
young knight was murdered by some of King Mark's emissaries, with his
father's death still unrevenged.
But vengeance sleeps not, and destiny had decided that the false-hearted
king should yet die in retribution for the murder of Prince Baldwin.
Alexander left a son, who was named Bellengerus le Beuse, and who grew
up to become a valiant and renowned knight. He it was who avenged the
slaughter of Prince Baldwin, and also of Sir Tristram, for this noble
knight was also slain by the felonious king, as we must now tell.
Through the good services of King Arthur and Queen Guenever, after
Tristram and Isolde had long dwelt at Joyous Gard, peace was made
between them and King Mark, and they returned to Tintagil, where for a
long time all went on in seeming friendship and harmony.
But the false king nursed the demon of jealousy deep within his breast,
and bided his time for revenge. At length, on a day when Tristram,
dreaming not of danger, sat harping before La Belle Isolde, the
treacherous king rushed suddenly upon him with a naked sword in his hand
and struck him dead at her feet.
Retribution for this vile deed came quickly, for Bellengerus was at
Tintagil Castle at the time, brought there by thirst of vengeance, and
with a heart filled with double fury by the news of this dastardly deed,
he rushed upon King Mark as he stood in the midst of his knights and
courtiers, and struck him to the heart with his father's avenging
blade.
Then, aided by Dinas, Fergus, and others of Tristram's friends, he
turned upon Andred and the remainder of King Mark's satellites, and when
the work of blood was done not one of these false-hearted knights
remained alive, and the court of Cornwall was purged of the villany
which had long reigned there supreme.
But La Belle Isolde loved Tristram with too deep a love to survive his
death, and she fell swooning upon the cross above his tomb and there
sobbed out her life; and she was buried by his side, that those who had
been so united in life should not be parted in death.
Great was the grief and pity aroused throughout England, and through all
lands where knighthood was held in honor, by this distressful event, for
never before had two such faithful lovers breathed mortal air. And long
thereafter lovers made pilgrimages to their tomb, where many prayed
fervently for a draught from that magic goblet from which Tristram and
Isolde drank, and whose wine of love forever after ran so warmly in
their veins.
BOOK IX.
THE QUEST OF THE HOLY GRAIL.
CHAPTER I.
THE ENCHANTED CASTLE OF KING PELLAM.
After many years had come and gone, and all at the court of Arthur the
king had grown older and wiser, there came to pass a series of
adventures more marvellous than had ever been known upon the earth
before, and of a nobler kind than mere tourneyings and joustings, being
no less than the quest of the holy vessel named the Sangreal, in which
was kept a portion of the blood of our blessed Saviour, Jesus Christ.
And through this quest much disaster came upon the land, and the noble
fellowship of the Round Table was broken up and destroyed, for many went
in search of the holy vessel who had lived evil lives, and of these few
came back, but most of them died deaths of violence.
This sacred talisman--the Sangreal--had been brought to England
centuries before by Joseph of Arimathea, a follower of our Saviour, and
had passed down from him to his descendant, King Pellam, of Listengeise,
him whom Balin struck the dolorous stroke, and who was destined to lie
in misery and pain until he should be healed of his wound by the winner
of the holy vessel.
But to tell how this perilous quest began we must go long years back and
relate a story of strange adventures and marvellous deliverances.
For it had happened that during a feast of Whitsuntide Lancelot du Lake
left Arthur's court at Camelot and rode afar in search of adventures.
And after a long journey, in which many strange things came to pass, he
arrived at Listengeise, the land of King Pellam. Here he rescued the
king's fair daughter, Elaine, from a dismal enchantment, under which she
had long lain through the wiles of Morgan le Fay and the queen of
Northgalis, who hated her bitterly from her renown for beauty.
After the rescue of the lady, Lancelot fought with and killed a mighty
serpent that haunted a tomb near by, and had done much harm in the land.
Then there came to him a dignified and noble baron, who thanked him
heartily in the name of the king, and invited him to a repast in the
castle hall.
But as they sat at table a wonderful thing took place. For in at the
open window of the hall there flew a dove, which bore in its mouth what
seemed a little censer of gold. And from this censer came such a rich
and penetrating perfume as if all the spicery of the world had been
there, while upon the table suddenly appeared the most delicious of
meats and drinks. Then came in a damsel, young and beautiful, who bore
in her hands a vessel of gold, before which all who were there kneeled
and prayed devoutly.
[Illustration: ON THE QUEST OF THE HOLY GRAIL.]
"What may all this mean?" asked Lancelot in deep surprise.
"It has been granted you to see the most precious and wonderful thing in
the world," answered the noble baron. "For you have been permitted to
gaze upon the holy Sangreal. In the time to come all Arthur's knights
shall take part in a quest for this precious talisman, and great shall
be the woe therefrom, for through that quest the Round Table fellowship
shall be broken up and many of its noble knights destroyed."
But all that passed in that land is too much for us to tell. We shall
say only that the fair Elaine came to love Lancelot dearly, but he gave
her no love in return, for all the affection of his heart was centred
upon Queen Guenever. Yet King Pellam so desired that Lancelot should wed
his fair daughter that in the end he used enchantment, and brought him
to make her his wife when under a magic spell, the deluded knight
fancying that it was Guenever whom he had wedded.
This delusion last not long, and when the deceived spouse came to his
senses and learned how he had been dealt with, he broke away like a
madman, and, gaining his horse, rode wildly through the land. And every
knight-errant who dared to joust with him was made to suffer from the
fury that burned in his blood.
Long afterwards, as chance and adventure brought about, there came to
King Pellam's castle Sir Bors de Ganis, Lancelot's nephew. He was gladly
received, and treated with all the good cheer and honor which the castle
could afford. And as he sat at his repast with, the castle lords, there
came in, as it had come to Lancelot, the dove with the censer, at which
the air was filled with the richest perfume, and the table covered with
the most delicious viands. Then entered the maiden with the holy grail,
and all fell to their prayers.
"Truly," said Bors, "this is a strange place, and a land full of
marvels."
"This I will say," answered the noble baron who sat in the king's chair,
"that of the knights who come here few see the holy vessel, and fewer go
away with any honor. Gawaine, the good knight, was here but lately; but
he saw not what your eyes have beheld, and he left here in shame. None
but those of a worshipful life and who love God devoutly can behold this
marvel, or sleep in this castle without coming to harm."
"I am in quest of adventures," said Bors, "and shall lie in your castle
this night, come what will. Men call me honest and virtuous, and I stand
ready to dare all perils the castle may hold."
"I counsel you not," said the baron. "You will hardly escape without
harm and shame."
"Let come what will come, I am ready."
"Then I advise you to confess, and go to your chamber with a clean soul,
for you will be sorely tried."
"Let it be so. Your counsel is wise."
After Sir Bors had been confessed and received absolution, he was led
into a fair large chamber, around which were many doors, while a bed of
royal richness stood in the middle of the floor. Here he was left alone,
and threw himself on the bed in his armor, deeming it wise to be
prepared for all that might come.
Not long had he lain there with open eyes and alert wits, when the room
was all at once brilliantly lighted up, though whence the light came he
could not tell. And suddenly a great and long spear, whose point burnt
like a taper, shot across the chamber without hand to guide it, and
struck him in the shoulder so fierce a blow that his armor was pierced,
and he received a wound, a hand's-breadth in depth, which pained him
bitterly.
Quickly afterwards an armed knight strode in, with shield on shoulder
and sword in hand, who cried in a harsh voice,--
"Arise, sir knight, and fight with me."
"I shall not fail you," said Bors, hot with the pain of his wound. "I am
sorely hurt, but I have vowed boldly to dare aught that might come to
me. If that burning spear came from your hand you shall pay dearly for
it."
With these words he sprang from the bed and attacked the intruder, and a
hard and stern battle began, which lasted long. At the end the intruding
knight was driven backward to a chamber door, through which he passed,
leaving Bors master of the floor.
But hardly had he rested a minute when the defeated knight returned, as
fresh as at the start, and attacked Bors with renewed strength. Again
the battle went on fiercely. But when Bors saw his antagonist once more
retreating towards the chamber door, he cried out,--
"Not so, my good fellow. You played that trick on me once; you shall
not again. Back and defend yourself. If you defeat me it shall be by
strength, not by magic." And he stationed himself before the door, and
drove back his opponent with such fury, that in a moment more he hurled
him to the floor.
"Yield, or you die!" he cried, setting his foot on the fallen knight's
head.
"I yield," came the answer.
"What is your name?"
"I am Sir Pedivere of the Straight Marches."
"Then, Sir Pedivere of the Straight Marches, take yourself away. And if
you have any of your fellows behind yonder door, bid them to keep out of
this room, for I came here to sleep, not to fight. At Whitsunday next,
present yourself at King Arthur's court, and tell him that you have come
thither as a prisoner of Sir Bors of the sharp sword."
This, Sir Pedivere swore to do, and left his conqueror to what rest he
could get. But this was little, for enchantment surrounded the daring
knight. The room suddenly became full of frightful noises and alive with
peril. Whence they came he knew not, whether through doors or windows,
but a flight of arrows and of crossbow bolts filled the air, whistling
shrewdly past his ears, while many of them fell upon him and pierced his
flesh through the open places in his armor.
"Who can sleep in such a den of witchcraft as this?" he cried, in a
rage, springing from the bed. As he did so one of the doors opened, and
a great lion leaped fiercely in, with a hideous roar.
"It is better to fight a lion that one can see, than arrows which nobody
shoots," cried Bors, and he rushed without hesitation on the dangerous
animal.
Sharp was the fight that followed, but of short duration. The lion
sprang wildly upon him, and tore the shield from his arm, while the
sharp claws rent his flesh. But the knight retorted with a sweeping
stroke that cut off the frightful beast's head, and stretched its tawny
body lifeless on the floor.
Then Bors walked to the window to see whither the arrows had come, and
as he looked into the castle court he beheld a wondrous sight. For
before his eyes stood a dragon, huge and horrible of aspect, in whose
forehead were letters of gold which seemed to him to form King Arthur's
emblem. And as he gazed there leaped into the court an old and mighty
leopard, which sprang upon the dragon and engaged in desperate battle
with the huge monster.
At last the dragon spit out of its mouth a hundred of what seemed small
dragons, and these quickly leaped upon the frightful beast and rent it
to fragments. Then all the animals disappeared, and an old man came into
the court, around whose neck two adders wreathed their folds. In his
hand was a harp, upon which he played, while he sang an old song telling
how Joseph of Arimathea came to that land. When his song was ended he
said to Sir Bors,--
"Go from this land, sir knight, for you shall have no more adventures
here. You have played your part well and nobly, and shall do still
better hereafter, for wondrous things are reserved for you."
Then Bors saw a dove of whitest plumage fly across the court with a
golden censer in its mouth, from which seemed to stream the most
delicious perfumes. And the tempest which had raged in the sky suddenly
ceased, while from the rent clouds the full moon poured down its white
light to the earth.
Next there came into the court four children who bore four tapers, and
an old man in their midst with a censer in one hand a spear in the
other, and that spear was called the spear of vengeance.
"Go to your cousin, Sir Lancelot," said the old man, "and tell him what
you have seen, and that if he had been as clean of sin as he should be,
the adventure which all this signifies would have been his. Tell him,
moreover, that though in worldly adventures he passes all others in
manhood and prowess, there are many his betters in spiritual worth, and
that what you have seen and done this night he was not deemed worthy
of."
Then Bors saw four meanly-dressed gentlewomen pass through his chamber,
and enter an apartment beyond which was lit up with a light like that of
midsummer. Here they knelt before an altar of silver with four pillars,
where also kneeled a man in the dress of a bishop. And as the knight
looked upward he beheld a naked sword hovering over his head, whose
blade shone like silver, yielding a flashing light that blinded him as
he gazed. As he stood thus sightless, he heard a voice which said,--
"Go hence, Sir Bors, for as yet thou art not worthy to be in this
place."
Then the door of that chamber closed, and he went backward to his bed,
where he lay and slept undisturbed till morning dawned. But when the
regent of King Pellam learned what had happened to his guest in the
night, and how he had escaped the perils of the enchanted chamber, he
greeted him joyfully, and said,--
"You are the first that ever endured so well that chamber's mysteries.
And more has been shown to your eyes than any others have seen. Go home,
worthy knight. You are chosen for great deeds in the time to come."
Sir Bors thereupon took his horse and rode away, thinking long and
deeply on all that had happened to him.