As he spoke, he flung down the bars and threw the door wide open. Then

he strode proudly and mightily among them, sword in hand and clad in

full armor, and at the first blow from his mighty hand stretched

Agravaine dead upon the floor. Like a maddened lion that charges upon a

herd of sheep, he now rushed upon them, striking fiercely to right and

left, and felling men with every blow, till in a little while twelve

more of his assailants lay cold in death, for there was not a man of

them all could stand one blow from his powerful arm.

Of the whole party only Mordred remained alive, and he fled wounded with

craven haste. Then Lancelot, leaning on his blood-dripping sword, turned

to the queen, who stood looking at his deeds of might, with white lips

and starting eyes.

[Illustration: Copyright by Frederick Hollyer, London, England.

SIR LANCELOT IN THE QUEEN'S CHAMBER.]

"All is at an end now," he said. "Henceforth King Arthur is my foe, and

I am like a wolf at bay. Yet I fear your enemies will work you fatal

harm, and would have you go with me, and let me be your

knight-protector."

"That I dread to do," said the queen, "for vile slander would follow my

footsteps. I had better face my foes. If they devise to put me to death,

then you may come to my rescue, and no one then can blame me for going

with you."

"That shall I do," said Lancelot. "And I promise to make such havoc

among all men who mean you harm as I have done among those who lie

here."

Then he kissed her, and each gave the other a ring; and so he left the

queen and went to his lodgings.

CHAPTER II.

THE RESCUE OF THE QUEEN.

Little sleep came that night to Lancelot and his friends. For when he

came again to Bors, he had found him, with others of his kindred, armed

and ready to come to his rescue. They listened with concern and

indignation to Lancelot's story of how he had been entrapped, and heard

with knightly joy the story of his bold discomfiture of his foes.

But it was evident to them all that the event was one of the greatest

moment; that enmity would exist between Lancelot and the king, and that

Guenever might be adjudged to the stake on the charge of infidelity to

her lord.

Therefore Bors took it upon himself to gather in Lancelot's defence all

his kindred and friends; and by seven o'clock of the next morning he had

gained the word of twenty-two Knights of the Round Table. To these were

added knights of North Wales and Cornwall, who joined Lancelot for

Lamorak's and Tristram's sake, to the number of fourscore.

To these Lancelot told all that had occurred, and expressed his fear of

Arthur's hostility.

"I am sure of mortal war," he said, "for these knights claimed to have

been sent and ordained by King Arthur to betray me, and I fear the king

may, in his heat and malice, condemn the queen to the fire. Trust me,

that I will not suffer her to be burnt for my sake. She is and has been

ever a true lady to her lord, and while I live she shall not become a

victim to the malice of her enemies."

The assembled knights agreed with him in this decision, and promised

their utmost aid in his purpose of rescue.

"Rescue her I shall, whoever may be hurt; and I trust to heaven that no

friend of mine will aid the king to her injury. But if I rescue her,

where shall I keep her?"

"Did not the noble Sir Tristram, with your good will, keep La Belle

Isolde three years in Joyous Gard, against the malice of King Mark?"

said Bors. "That place is your own; and there, if the king adjudge the

queen to the stake, you may keep her till his heat shall cool. Then you

may bring her home with worship, and gain Arthur's thanks."

"That may not work so well as you fancy," said Lancelot. "You remember

what a return Tristram got from King Mark."

"That is another story," replied Bors. "You know well that Arthur and

Mark are men of different mould. Mark could smile and play the traitor;

but no man living can say that King Arthur was ever untrue to his word."

Their conference over, by the advice of Lancelot the knights put

themselves in ambush in a wood as near Carlisle as they could secretly

approach. And there they remained on guard, waiting to learn what the

king might do.

Meantime Mordred, though wounded by Lancelot's sword, had managed to

mount his horse, and rode in all haste to tell the king of the bloody

end of the ambush. On hearing the story, Arthur's mind was divided

between anger and pain.

"It grieves me sorely that Lancelot should be against me," he said; "and

much I fear that the glorious fellowship of the Round Table is broken,

for many of our noblest knights will hold with him. But dishonor must

not rest upon England's crown. The queen has played me false, and shall

suffer death for her treason to her wifely duty."

For the law was such in those days, that all, of whatever estate or

degree, found guilty of treason, should suffer death. And so it was

ordained in Queen Guenever's case--since thirteen knights had been

slain, and one escaped sore wounded, in defending the king's honor--that

she should be taken to the stake, and there be burnt to death as a

traitress.

"My lord Arthur," said Gawaine, "let me counsel you not to be over

hasty in this severe judgment, for as I take it the guilt of the queen

is not proved. That Lancelot was found in the queen's chamber I admit;

but he might have come there with no evil purpose. You know how he has

been for years her chosen knight, and how much he has done for her. She

may have sent for him privily, to avoid scandal, for conference on some

innocent subject. What we do for the best often turns to the worst, and

I dare affirm that my lady the queen is, and has always been, faithful

and true to her lord. As for Lancelot, I doubt me not he will make good

what I have said with word and body, against any and all that question

or oppose."

"That I believe," said the king. "I know Lancelot's way. But his

boldness does not prove the queen's innocence. For her he shall never

fight again, for she shall suffer the penalty of the law. And if I can

lay my hands on him, he shall die the shameful death he richly merits."

"Then may Christ save me from ever seeing it," said Gawaine.

"Why say you this?" demanded the king, angrily. "You have no cause to

love him. Last night he killed your brother Agravaine, and here is

Mordred sorely wounded. He also slew two of your sons, Sir Florence and

Sir Lovel."

"I know all that. But I gave them warning beforehand of what would

happen if they meddled in this affair. They brought this fate on

themselves. As for Agravaine, he stirred up this scandalous business,

and has got his deserts."

"Say no more," cried the king, in hot indignation. "I am resolved. The

honor of Arthur's wife must be above suspicion. She has fallen from

chastity and shall die the death. As for you, Gawaine, I bid you arm in

your best armor, with your brethren Gareth and Gaheris, and bring her to

the fire, that she may there hear her judgment, and receive the death

she merits."

"No, my most noble lord, that shall I never do," said Gawaine. "No man

shall say that I had aught to do with the death of this worthy lady, or

gave my word in favor of her death."

"Then bid your brothers, Gareth and Gaheris, attend."

"They are young, and may not withstand your will; but they shall not be

there by my counsel," said Gawaine, stoutly.

"We must attend, if you command us," said Gareth and Gaheris to the

king. "But it will be sorely against our wills. If come we must, it

shall be in peaceful guise, and without warlike array."

"Come as you will," said the king. "This I say, she shall have judgment

this day."

"Alas! that I have ever lived to see this woful day!" said Gawaine,

sadly, and as he turned away the tears ran hotly from his eyes.

But the king was bitterly set in his deadly purpose, and no sooner had

he reached Carlisle than he gave command that the queen should at once

be led to the place of execution, there to be burned as a traitress.

When this fatal decision was known in the castle there was weeping and

wailing and wringing of hands from many lords and ladies, while of the

knights there present, few would consent to wear armor to compass the

queen's death.

But Arthur's commands none dared question, and the unhappy lady was

shriven by her ghostly father, and bound to the fatal stake. In a circle

around her stood a guard of armed knights, while others were present

without armor. But the king was not there; nor would Gawaine show

himself at that shameful scene.

Then fire was set to the fagots that surrounded the stake. But as the

flames began to curl upwards there came a shrill bugle-blast from a

neighboring wood, and of a sudden Lancelot and his knights broke from

their ambush, and rode upon those about the fire, striking right and

left at all who bore arms and withstood them.

Down went the guard of knights before this fierce onset, till full

twenty of them lay dead on the field. But by sad fortune, as Lancelot,

in his warlike fury pressed hither and thither, cutting and slashing

with the hot rage of the berserker, he by mishap struck the two unarmed

knights, Gareth and Gaheris, and stretched them dead upon the field.

This was in the thick of the fray, and he knew not what he had done, for

rather would he have slain himself than harmed these, his faithful

friends. A few minutes sufficed to kill or disperse all the guard. Then

Lancelot sprang from his horse, scattered the blazing fagots with his

foot, and with a blow of his sword severed the bonds that fastened

Guenever to the stake.

The unhappy lady fell, weeping, into his arms, thanking him in broken

accents. With all due haste he mounted her on a horse that had been

provided, and rode off with her and his following of gallant knights to

Joyous Gard, strong of heart and stout of frame, and resolved to fight

for her to the death, for more than ever he felt himself her chosen

knight.

And when word went through the country round that Arthur and Lancelot

were at odds, many a good knight rode in all haste to his castle, bent

on taking his side in the coming war.

But when the news was brought to Arthur of how Lancelot had rescued the

queen, and slain many of his knights, and in particular Gareth and

Gaheris, his anger turned to such bitter sorrow and regret that he

swooned from pure grief. And when he came to his senses again he deeply

moaned, and reproached himself for the evil that had befallen.

"Alas! that I ever wore the crown!" he bewailed. "Within these two days

I have lost forty knights, and, above all, the noble fellowship of

Lancelot and his kindred, and all because I listened to the tongue of

foul detraction. Alas! that ever this fatal thing began! Fair friends,

see that none of you tell Gawaine of what has happened, for he loves

Gareth so deeply that I fear, when he hears of his death, he will go out

of his mind. How came Lancelot to slay these knights, who both loved him

devotedly?"

"He would never have harmed them had he known them," said a knight. "It

was in the midst of the hurtling and fierce struggling, when swords

strike they know not where. Sad he will be when he learns what he has

done."

"I am heavier for the loss of my knights than of my queen," said

Arthur, sadly. "Other queens may be had, but such a fellowship of

knights can never be brought together again. And this I know, that when

Gawaine learns of Gareth's death, he will never rest, nor suffer me to

rest, till I have destroyed Lancelot and his kindred, or they have

destroyed me. Ah, Agravaine, Agravaine, Jesus forgive thy soul for thy

evil will, for thou and thy brother Mordred have caused all this bitter

sorrow."

While the king thus complained, a tale-bearer, unheeding his

injunctions, came to Gawaine big with his story, and told him of the

rescue of the queen, and the death of a knightly host.

"What else could Lancelot do?" said Gawaine. "I should have done as much

myself had I stood in his place. But where are my brothers? Why hear I

not of them?"

"Truly," said the man; "they are both killed."

"Now, Jesus forbid! What! both? Is Gareth slain? Dare you tell me so?"

"Alas! the pity of it!"

"Killed! Who killed him?"

"Sir Lancelot slew them both."

"That is false. Gareth loved him better than he did me or the king. He

would have joined him against us all, had Lancelot desired. And he was

unarmed. Dare you repeat this story?" and he caught the man fiercely by

the shoulders and glared wildly in his face.

"Sir, it is so noised abroad," said the man.

"Then is all joy gone from my life," moaned Gawaine, and he fell to the

floor in a deep swoon, in which he lay long like one dead.

But when Gawaine recovered, and had sought the king, and learned that

his two brothers had been killed, unarmed and defenceless, his sorrow

changed to bitter and revengeful anger.

"My king, my lord, and my uncle," he sternly said, "I vow by my

knighthood that I shall never forgive Lancelot for this murderous deed,

but from this day forth shall remain his deadly foe, till one of us has

slain the other. War to the death it shall be, and if you aid me not I

shall seek Sir Lancelot alone, if it be through seven kings' realms,

till I hold him to answer for this deed of blood."

"You shall not need to seek him so far," said the king. "They say that

Lancelot awaits us in Joyous Gard, and that many knights have joined

him."

"Well is it so," said Gawaine fiercely. "Then my lord Arthur, gather

your friends, and I will gather mine. Say not that deeds like this shall

go unpunished in England's realm. Your justice defied! My unarmed

brothers murdered! Shall this be done, and we basely submit?"

"You speak to the point," said the king. "We must strike for honor and

revenge. Strong as Lancelot's castle is, and bold as are his friends, I

fancy I can gain strength enough to draw him out of the strongest tower

in it."

Then King Arthur sent orders far and wide through the land, and in brief

time there came to Carlisle many knights, dukes, and earls, so that he

had a great host. These the king informed of what had happened, and of

his purpose to force Lancelot to yield up his queen, and to punish him

for his trespass.

Lancelot meanwhile, was not idle, but drew to himself, many more

knights, and provisioned his castle fully, for he well knew that he must

abide behind walls, as he was far too weak to meet the king's host in

the field.

Not many days had elapsed when King Arthur and Gawaine with a great host

of men, laid siege about Joyous Gard, both the town and the castle, and

war replaced the peace that had reigned so long in the land.

But Lancelot lay secure in his castle, and for a long time would not go

out himself, nor suffer any of his knights to pass the gates of town or

castle. And so fifteen weeks of the siege passed away.

CHAPTER III.

THE RETURN OF GUENEVER.

It befell upon a day in harvest-time that Lancelot looked over the walls

of Joyous Gard, and seeing below him the king and Gawaine, thus spoke to

them,--

"My lords both, you besiege this castle in vain. You will gain more

dishonor than worship here. If I chose to come out, with my knights, I

should soon bring this war to an end."

"Come forth, if thou darest!" cried the king, in anger. "I promise to

meet thee in the midst of the field."

"God defend that I should face on the field of battle the noble king who

made me knight."

"A truce to your fair language," answered the king. "Trust me, that I am

your mortal foe, and will be so till the day of my death. You have slain

my knights and dishonored my queen, and hold her from me by force, like

a traitor. Think you I shall lightly forgive this?"

"You may say what you will, my lord and king," answered Lancelot. "With

you I will not fight; but as for your lady Guenever, I am ready to stand

for her innocence against any knight under heaven. Those who have

slandered me and her lie in their teeth, and I hold myself ready to

prove to the death that she is as true and chaste a lady as ever lived.

More than once, my lord, you have consented that she should be burnt,

from the voice of slander, and more than once have I rescued her, and

forced the lie down the throats of her slanderers. Then you thanked me

for saving her from the fire. Now, for doing you the same high service

again, you bring war upon me. Your queen is honest and true, and if you

will receive her to your good grace again I stand ready to deliver her."

"Recreant knight!" cried Gawaine, in wrath, "I warrant you my lord the

king shall have his queen and you too, despite your fair words and proud

defiance, and shall slay you both if it please him."

"That may be, Gawaine," said Lancelot. "Yet if I chose to come out of

the castle you would not find it quite child's play to win me and the

queen."

"Save your boastful words," said Gawaine. "As for my lady, the queen, I

shall say naught to her dishonor. But, recreant knight, what cause had

you to slay my brother Gareth, who loved you with his whole soul?"

"I shall not seek an excuse for that deed," said Lancelot. "I would with

as good will have slain my nephew Sir Bors. All I may say is that it was

done in the heat of battle, and I knew not they were slain till word was

brought me here."

"You lie in your teeth!" cried Gawaine. "You killed them in despite of

me; and for this foul deed I shall make war on you while I live."

"If you are so hotly set, there is no use for me to seek accord; yet I

am truly sorry for their deaths and your enmity. Only for this I would

soon have the good grace of my lord Arthur."

"That may be, traitor, but you will wait long for peace. You have lorded

it over me, and the whole of us, too long, and slain knights at your

will. Now our turn has come."

"No one dare say that I ever killed a knight through treachery, as you,

Gawaine, have done."

"You mean Sir Lamorak. Him I slew, man to man."

"Who lies now? You know well that you and the crew that set upon him

dared not meet him face to face. You struck him treacherously from

behind."

"A truce to Lamorak. This you may know, that I will never leave you till

I deal with you as I did with him."

"Murder me, you mean! I fancy you might if you caught me in such a

strait, which you will not easily do."

Then others took the cue from Gawaine, and the cry went up from many

voices: "False and recreant knight! how long will you hide behind your

castle walls, like a rat in his hole?"

"How long is this to last?" said Bors and others to Lancelot. "We pray

you to keep us no longer within these walls, but let us out to do battle

with them. Men will say next that you are afraid. As for fair speech, it

is thrown away. Gawaine will never forgive you, nor suffer you to make

accord with the king. Therefore fight for your right, for to that it

must come."

"I am loath to do so," said Lancelot.

Then he called from the wall to the king,--

"My knights demand that I let them sally from the castle. I therefore

pray that neither you nor Sir Gawaine come into the field, for to you

two I wish no harm."

"What then? Shall we cower in our tents while others fight our battles?"

cried Gawaine. "This quarrel is mine and the king's. Shall we not fight

in it?"

"If you will, you will; but I seek not battle with either of you."

Then they drew back, and both sides made ready for battle. And Gawaine,

with deadly intent, set aside a strong body of knights, bidding them to

attack Lancelot in force, and slay him if they could.

When the next morning came, King Arthur drew up his host against the

castle in three great bands. And Lancelot's fellowship issued from the

castle at three gates, the three bands being led by Lancelot, Bors, and

Lionel. But Lancelot had given strict charge to his knights to avoid

harming King Arthur and Sir Gawaine.

Fierce was the battle that followed, and many good knights were slain.

It began with a challenge from Gawaine, who came out before the king's

host and dared any knight of Lancelot's to joust with him. This

challenge Lionel accepted, but Gawaine thrust him through the body, and

dashed him to the earth like a dead man. Then his friends rushed to his

rescue and drove back his foes, bearing him from the field into the

castle. This affray brought on a hot and fiery battle, and soon the air

was filled with shouts, and the earth strewn with dead and wounded men.

In the midst of this fray the king hotly attacked Lancelot; but that

faithful knight patiently endured his assault, and lifted not a hand in

defence. But Bors, seeing his danger, rushed in, and, with a spear

thrust, hurled King Arthur to the ground. Quickly leaping from his

horse, he drew his sword, and said,--

"Shall I make an end of this war?"

"On pain of your head, no! Harm not the king! I shall not stand by and

see him slain."

Then Lancelot sprang to the ground and helped the king to his horse

again, saying,--

"My lord Arthur, for God's sake, end this strife! I will not fight you,

though you kill me, nor have I the heart to fight your men. My lord,

remember what I have done for you. Is not this an evil reward?"

When Arthur heard these words tears flowed from his eyes, for Lancelot's

courtesy had overcome his anger. He turned and rode away, saying

sadly,--

"Alas! that this war ever began."

Then both sides drew off, and parties of each began the sad duty of

burying the dead, while the wounded were borne away, and healing salves

applied to their wounds.

The next day the battle was renewed, and fought with the same deadly

energy as before. On this day Bors led the foremost party, and met

Gawaine as Lionel had done the day before. Fiercely together they rode,

and both were hurled to the ground with deep and dangerous wounds.

Around them the battle raged with double fierceness, but Lancelot broke

in and rescued Bors, and had him borne to the castle, while the other

party bore off Gawaine.

Then, as the battle continued, Lavaine and others begged Lancelot to put

forth his strength and fight with his full might, for he imperilled them

all by his forbearance.

"Why should you spare your foes?" they said. "You do but harm thereby.

Your enemies spare not you."

"I have no heart to fight against the king," said Lancelot.

"If you spare them all this day they will never thank you," said

Palamides. "And if they get the better of you they will slay you without

mercy."

Lancelot saw that this was but the truth, and stirred by this and the

wound of Sir Bors, he rushed into the fray with his old might and fury,

forcing back all before him. Glad to see the old Lancelot, his

followers pressed forward, driving back the foe, so that by eventide

they had the best of the fray, and their horses went fetlock deep in the

blood of the slain.

Then, in pity for Arthur, Lancelot blew the recall, and suffered the

king's party to withdraw without further slaughter.

After this there was peace between the parties for many days, for

Gawaine had been so sorely hurt that he could not stir the king to

active war, and Arthur after awhile returned to Carlisle, leaving the

castle closely besieged.

But the story of this war had now passed through Christendom, and had

reached the pope, who, feeling that war between King Arthur and Lancelot

was like battle between brothers, sent a letter to the king, commanding

him, under pain of an interdict upon all England, to take his Queen

Guenever into favor again, and to make peace and accord with Sir

Lancelot.

This Papal bull was brought to Arthur by the bishop of Rochester, who

was then at Rome. When the king had heard it read he knew not what to

do. He agreed to take back the queen, and in his heart desired to make

friends with Lancelot; but to this Gawaine, who had then the greatest

influence over him, would not consent.

In the end it was agreed that if Lancelot would bring back the queen he

should come and go in safety, and that no word should be spoken to

Guenever, by the king or other person, of aught that had happened in the

past.

Then the bishop had from the king his assurance, under the great seal

of the realm, as he was a true anointed knight, that Sir Lancelot should

come and return in safety, and that the queen should not be spoken to by

the king, or any other, concerning what had passed. With this

safe-conduct, written at length and signed by King Arthur, the holy

prelate rode in state to Joyous Gard, where he made Lancelot acquainted

with all that had happened, telling him of the pope's action, and of the

peril he would encounter if he withheld the queen from the king.

"It was never in my thought," said Lancelot, "to withhold Queen Guenever

from my lord Arthur. All men know why I have her in charge. She would

have suffered a shameful death through the king's unjust anger had I not

been on hand to save her life; and I hold her only from peril of that

vile sentence, which has never until now been remitted. I thank the pope

heartily that he has made peace between Guenever and the king, and God

knows that I will be a thousand-fold gladder to take her back than I

ever was to bring her away. All I demand is, that I shall come and go in

safety, and that the queen shall have her liberty as before, and stand

in no peril from this or any former charge against her. For else I dare

venture to keep her from a harder shower than ever yet has fallen upon

her or me."

"You need dread nothing either for yourself or the queen," replied the

bishop. "You know full well that the pope must be obeyed, by the king as

well as by you. It were not to the pope's worship nor my poor honor that

you should be distressed, or the queen put to shame or peril. And as

for King Arthur, here is his promise, under his own writing and seal."

Then he showed Lancelot all the written documents he had brought, both

from the pope and the king.

"That suffices," said Lancelot. "I would trust King Arthur's bare word

as I would the oath of half Christendom. No man can say that he ever

broke his plighted faith. Therefore, I beg you to ride before me to the

king, and recommend me to his good grace, letting him know that in eight

days from to-day, by the grace of God, I shall bring to him his lady

Queen Guenever. And say this further to him, that I stand ready to meet

any one in the lists for the queen's fair fame except himself and Sir

Gawaine, and the latter more from the king's love for him than from

aught of his own deserts."

With this agreement the bishop departed to Carlisle, and when he had

told the king how nobly Lancelot had spoken, the tears started from

Arthur's eyes, and much he deplored in his heart the cruel chance that

had aroused war between him and his dearest friend.

Lancelot now made ready a hundred knights, who were all dressed in green

velvet, with their horses trapped to their heels, while each knight held

in his hand an olive branch, in token of peace. For the queen there were

provided four and twenty gentlewomen, who followed her in the same

guise; while Lancelot was followed by twelve coursers, on each of which

sat a young gentleman, and these were arrayed in green velvet with

golden girdles, and the horses trapped to the heels with rich cloths,

set with pearls and stones in gold, to the number of a thousand. As for

Lancelot and Guenever, they were clothed in white cloth-of-gold tissue.

And in this array they rode from Joyous Gard to Carlisle, and through

Carlisle to the castle, while many an eye shed tears on seeing them.

Then Lancelot alighted and took the queen, and led her to where Arthur

sat, with Gawaine and many great lords before him. Then he kneeled, and

the queen with him.

Many of the assembled knights wept bitterly on seeing this, but the king

sat in haughty silence, looking steadily upon the pair who knelt before

him. Seeing his countenance, Lancelot rose and forced the queen to rise

also. Then thus he spoke in knightly pride,--

"My lord the king, by the pope's command and yours I have brought you my

lady, the queen, as right requireth. If there be any knight, whatever

his degree, except your sacred self, who shall dare say she has been

untrue to you, I, Lancelot du Lake, stand ready to make her honor good

with my body. To liars you have listened, and that has caused all the

trouble between you and me. Time has been, my lord Arthur, when you have

been greatly pleased with me in that I did battle for my lady your

queen. Full well you know, my most royal sir, that she has been put to

great wrong before this time; and since it pleased you then that I

should fight for her, it seems to me that I had still more cause this

last time to rescue her from the fire, since she was to have been burnt

for my sake. Had not the might of God been with me, think you that I

could, unarmed, have prevailed over fourteen armed knights? I was sent

for by the queen, who wished to confer with me, but had barely stepped

within her chamber, when out burst Mordred and Agravaine, calling me

traitor and recreant knight."

"They called you truly," said Gawaine.

"Did they so, Gawaine? By heaven, in their quarrel they failed to prove

themselves in the right."

"I have given you no cause to do evil to me, Lancelot," said the king.

"For I have loved you and yours more than all my other knights."

"My good lord and liege," answered Lancelot, "I beg it may not displease

you if I answer that you have better cause to love me and mine than most

knights, for none have done you such service as we have at many times

and in many places. Often have I myself rescued you from deadly peril,

when you were hard pressed by your foes; and it has ever been my joy to

please you, and my lord Gawaine as well, in jousts and tournaments, and

in set battles, both on horse and on foot. I wish not to boast of my

deeds, yet you all know well that I never met a knight but that I was

able to stand against him, and have always done my duty like a man. I

have been matched with good knights, such as Sir Tristram and Sir

Lamorak, whom I loved for their valor and honesty. And I take God to

witness, that I was never angry with or jealous of any good knight whom

I saw active to win honor, and was ever glad at heart when I found a

knight who was able to endure me on horseback or on foot. Sir Carados of

the dolorous tower was a noble knight and a man of mighty strength, and

this you know full well, Sir Gawaine, since he pulled you from your

horse, and bound you before him on his saddle. Yet I rescued you from

him, and slew him before your eyes. In like manner I found his brother,

Sir Turquine, leading your brother, Sir Gaheris, bound on his saddle,

and slew him, and rescued your brother, as also three-score and four of

King Arthur's knights whom he held in prison. Never met I with as strong

and hard-fighting knights as Sir Carados and Sir Turquine, and I fought

with them to the uttermost for the sake of you and your brother. It

seems to me, Sir Gawaine, that you ought to bear in mind this good

service I did for you in the past. If I might but have your good will in

return, I would trust to God to have my lord Arthur's kindly grace."

"The king may do as he will," said Gawaine; "but while I live I shall

never be in accord with you. I cannot forget that you have killed three

of my brothers, two of them treacherously and pitilessly, for they wore

no armor against you, and refused to bear any."

"Would to heaven they had been armed, for then they would now be alive,"

said Lancelot. "I tell you this, Sir Gawaine, that I love none of my own

kinsmen as I did your brother, Sir Gareth, and would far rather have

slain myself than him. Never while I live shall I cease to mourn his

death, not alone for your bitter sorrow and anger, but for other causes

which concern myself. One is, that it was I who made him a knight;

another is, that he loved me above all other knights; a third is, that

he was ever noble, true, courteous, and gentle. I never would have

slain, or even hurt, either Gareth or Gaheris by my will; and sad at

heart am I that this fatal chance has robbed me of your love and made

undying war between us, and has caused my noble lord and king to be my

mortal foe. May Jesus forgive me for this cruel chance, which the fates

have laid upon me. In reparation for this sad misfortune, I shall freely

offer, if it will please the king's good grace, and yours, my lord

Gawaine, to do penance in this wise. I shall start from Sandwich, and go

in my shirt, barefoot, and at every ten miles' end I shall found a

religious house, of what order you wish, where shall be sung and read

day and night psalms and masses for the repose of Sir Gareth and Sir

Gaheris. This I shall perform from Sandwich to Carlisle. This, Sir

Gawaine, seems to me fairer, holier, and better for their souls than

that you and the king should make war upon me; for little good to any is

likely to come from it."

Then the knights and ladies there wept as though they were distracted,

and the tears fell hot on King Arthur's cheeks. But no shadow of

softness came to Gawaine's stern face.

"The king, as I have said, may do as it pleases him," he answered, "but

I shall never forgive you for the murder of my brothers. If my uncle,

King Arthur, accords with you, he shall lose my service, for I hold you

false both to the king and me."

"The man lives not that can make that good," cried Lancelot. "If you

charge me thus, I am ready to answer you with spear and sword since

words you disdain."

"That cannot be at this time," said Gawaine. "You are here under the

king's safe-conduct, and so must depart. If it were not for the pope's

command and the king's given word, I should do battle with you, body to

body, and prove upon you that you have been false both to the king and

to me. In this land you shall not abide more than fifteen days, for I

give you open warning that your safe-conduct lasts only for that time.

In this the king and we all were agreed before you came hither. Only for

this you would now find that my words are ready to be backed up with

deeds. And this you shall find wheresoever I shall meet you hereafter."

Then Lancelot sighed, and tears fell upon his cheeks.

"Alas, most Christian realm," he said, "that I have loved above all

other realms, and most Christian king, whom I have worshipped next to my

God. From both I am banished, without cause or warrant. Truly I am sorry

that I ever came into this land, to be thus causelessly and shamefully

treated, after my long service here. So is it ever with fortune, whose

wheel is so changeable that there is no constant abiding; and this may

be proved by the old chronicles of noble Hector of Troy, and Troilus,

and Alexander the mighty conqueror, and many more. When they were

highest they quickly became lowest; and thus has it fared with me. No

living men have brought more honor and glory to the Round Table than I

and my kindred, and yet we stand banished from the land which owes us

such worthy service. As for you, Gawaine, I can live upon my native

lands as well as any knight here. And if you, redoubted king, shall seek

me there in hostile array, I must endure you as well as I may. If you

come thither, Gawaine, see that you charge me not with treason or

felony, for if you do, it will scarcely end with words."

"Do your worst," cried Gawaine, hotly. "And get you gone from here as

fast as you can. We shall soon come after, and tumble your strongest

castle upon your head."

"That shall not need," said Lancelot. "You may find me ready to meet you

in open field."

"There have been words enough," said Gawaine. "Deliver the queen and

take yourself away."

"If I had looked for so short a reception I would have thought twice

before coming," answered Lancelot, proudly. "If the queen had been as

dear to me as you would make her, I durst have kept her from the best

fellowship of knights under heaven."

Then he turned to Guenever and said, in full hearing of the king and all

there,--

"Madam, now I must depart from you and this noble fellowship forever.

Since it is so, I beseech you to pray for me. And if you be slandered by

any false tongues, send me word, my lady, and if one knight's hands may

deliver you by battle, I shall deliver you."

Then Lancelot kissed the queen, and said openly to all present,--

"Now let me see who there is in this place that dare say Queen Guenever

is not true unto my lord King Arthur! Let him speak who dare speak."

He looked proudly around the hall, from right to left, but no voice came

in answer. Then he took the queen by the hand and led her to the king,

and delivered her to his royal hand. This done, Lancelot turned and

walked from the hall with haughty stride; and there was neither duke,

earl, nor king, baron nor knight, lady or maiden, that wept not at the

sorrowful parting, except Sir Gawaine. And when Lancelot took his horse

to ride out of Carlisle there was sobbing and weeping from all the

people who had gathered in the streets to see him depart. And so he took

his way to Joyous Gard, which ever after he called Dolorous Gard. And

thus departed Sir Lancelot du Lake from the court of King Arthur

forever.

He now called his fellowship about him, and asked them what they would

do.

"Whatever you will," they answered with one voice.

"Then, my brave and faithful friends, we must leave this realm. It is

sore to me to be banished, and had I not dreaded shame, the lady

Guenever should never have left me."

"If you stay in this land we shall not fail you," said his knights. "If

you depart hence we shall go with you."

"My fair lords, I thank you heartily," answered Lancelot, with much

feeling. "If you come with me to my realm beyond the sea, I shall divide

my lands among you, till I have as little as any of you. I care for

only enough to live upon, and trust to maintain you in knightly honor."

"So let it be," they rejoined. "Here, now that the fellowship of the

Round Table is broken, there will be no more peace, but only strife and

turmoil. You were the stay of Arthur's court, Sir Lancelot. With you

gone, all quiet and harmony will depart."

"You praise me too highly, gentlemen. I did my duty; but not I alone.

Yet I fear, when we are gone, we will soon hear of wars and rebellions,

from those who dared not raise their heads when we were all together.

Mordred I fear above all. He is envious and ambitious, and if King

Arthur shall trust him I dread me greatly he will find him a stinging

serpent."

Then, soon after, they left Joyous Gard, and shipped at Cardiff to pass

beyond the seas to Lancelot's realm of Benwick. Some men, indeed, call

it Bayonne, and some call it Beume, the land whence comes the wine of

Beume. Yet to say sooth, Lancelot and his nephews were lords of all

France, and had there a host of towns and castles, and many people at

their command.

There went with him a hundred proven knights, whom he rewarded as he had

promised. For he shortly called a parliament, where he crowned Lionel

king of France. Bors he made king of the realm of King Claudas; and

Hector de Maris, King of Benwick and Guienne; while his other knights

were made dukes and earls, till all were nobly provided for.

Thus Lancelot rewarded his faithful friends. And he furnished and

provisioned his towns and castles, and gathered the men of war of the

realm, for he felt well assured that Gawaine would not rest till he had

brought King Arthur against him in martial array.

CHAPTER IV.

THE WAR BETWEEN ARTHUR AND LANCELOT.

What Lancelot had feared came quickly to pass. For so unrelenting was

Gawaine's enmity, and so strong his influence over the king, that

Arthur, at his persistent instigation, got together a great army, to the

number of sixty thousand, and had shipping made ready to carry them over

the sea.

Then he made Sir Mordred chief ruler of all England during his absence,

and put Queen Guenever under his care, little dreaming of what fatal

results would follow this unwise choice.

These preparations made, Arthur passed the sea with his host, and landed

in Lancelot's realm, where, through the revengeful spirit of Gawaine,

they burnt and wasted all that they overran.

When word of this was brought to Lancelot and his knights, Sir Bors thus

broke out in anger,--

"My lord Sir Lancelot, it is a shame to let them thus destroy this fair

realm of France. You may well be assured that, however long you forbear

your foes, they will do you no favor if you fall into their hands."

Then said Sir Lionel, who was wary and wise, "My lord Sir Lancelot, this

is my counsel. Let us keep to our strong-walled towns till the invaders

suffer from hunger and cold, and blow upon their nails for warmth. Then

we may freshly set upon them, and shred them down like sheep in a

field."

"Such a course would disgrace us all," said King Bagdemagus to Lancelot.

"Your over-courtesy has caused all the trouble we now have. If we let

Gawaine work his will, he will bring our power to naught, while we hide

like rabbits in our holes."

"So say I," broke in Sir Galihud. "There are knights here who come of

kings' blood, and that will not long be content to droop behind walls.

Give us leave to meet them in the field, and we shall deal with them in

such fashion that they will curse the time they came into this country."

Then spoke seven brethren of North Wales, men of such prowess that one

might seek through seven lands before he could find seven such

knights,--

"Sir Lancelot," they said together, "let us ride out with Sir Galihud,

for it has never been our wont to cower in towns and castles."

"My fair lords," replied Lancelot to them all, "I am loath to ride out

with my knights and shed Christian blood. And my lands, after all the

wars they have endured, are too bare long to sustain this invading host.

It is the part of wisdom, therefore, for the time to keep to our walls,

and meanwhile I will send a messenger to King Arthur and offer him a

treaty of peace."

Then he sent a damsel to the king, and a dwarf with her, with a message,

bidding Arthur to quit making war upon his lands, and offering him fair

terms of accommodation. The damsel rode to the hostile camp on a palfry,

while the dwarf ran by her side. When she came near to King Arthur's

pavilion she alighted, and there was met by a gentle knight, Sir Lucan

the butler, who said,--

"Fair damsel, come you from Sir Lancelot du Lake?"

"Yes, sir," she replied, "I am come hither with a message from him to my

lord the king."

"Alas, that it should be needed!" said Sir Lucan. "My lord Arthur would

soon be in accord with Lancelot but for Gawaine, who has more influence

over him than all his knights besides, and will not suffer him to think

of peace and friendship. I pray to God, damsel, that you speed well in

your errand, for all that are about the king, except Sir Gawaine, wish

well to Lancelot above all knights living."

With these words he led the damsel to the king's pavilion. There Arthur,

who had been advised of her coming, sat with Gawaine to hear her

message. When she had told her errand the king was so moved that tears

ran from his eyes, and all the lords were ready to advise him to make

peace with Lancelot. But Gawaine, who sat with lowering brow, now broke

out in hot speech,--

"My lord, my uncle, what will you do? Will you turn again after having

come so far? All the world will speak villany of you."

"I do not deem it wise to refuse his fair proffers," said the king.

"Yet since I am come so far on this journey, I leave it to you to give

the damsel her answer."

"Then tell Sir Lancelot," said Gawaine to the damsel, "that he wastes

his labor now to sue to my uncle. If he wished peace he should have

sought it sooner. Now it is too late. Tell him, also, that I, Sir

Gawaine, promise him, by the faith I owe to God and to knighthood, never

to leave him in peace till he have slain me or I him."

This word the damsel brought back to Lancelot, where he stood among his

knights, and sad of heart he was to hear it.

"Why do you grieve?" said the knights. "If war they want, let them have

it to their fill. Let us meet them in the field."

"Never before was I so loath to do battle," said Lancelot. "I would

rather flee from King Arthur than fight him. Be ruled by me, noble sirs.

When I must defend myself, then I will; but haste will make fresh

sorrow."

Then the knights held their peace, and that night took their rest. But

in the morning, when they looked abroad, they saw a hostile host around

the city of Benwick, pressing it so closely that ladders were already

set up against the walls. The defenders of the town flocked in haste to

the walls and threw down the ladders, and hot strife began.

Forth now rode Sir Gawaine on a strong steed, and with a great spear in

his hand, and when he came before the chief gate he called out loudly,--

"Sir Lancelot, where art thou? Or what proud knight is here that dare

break a spear with me?"

Hearing this challenge, Sir Bors hastily made ready, and rode from the

city to the encounter. But Gawaine smote him from his horse, and would

have slain him had he not been rescued. Then Lionel, his brother, rode

out to revenge him; but he, too, was sorely wounded, and so borne into

the town.

And thus, day after day, came Gawaine with his challenge, and not a day

passed but some knight fell before his spear. And for half a year the

siege continued, and there was much slaughter on both sides.

At length came a day when Gawaine again appeared before the gates, armed

at all points, and loudly cried,--

"Where art thou now, thou false traitor, Sir Lancelot? Why hidest thou

within walls and holes like a coward? Come forth, traitor, that I may

revenge on thy body the death of my three brothers?"

Then said Lancelot's knights to their leader,--

"Now, Sir Lancelot, you must fight, or you are shamed forever. It is

time for you to stir, for you have slept over long and we suffered over

much."

"Defend myself I must, since he charges me with treason," said Lancelot.

"His words cut deeply, and I must fight or be held recreant," and with

stern countenance he bade the attendants to saddle his strongest horse

and bring his arms to the gate tower. Then from this tower he called to

the king, who stood below,--

"My lord Arthur," he said, "sad am I, for your sake, that thus you press

upon me. Had I been revengeful I might have met you in open field, and

there made your boldest knights full tame; but I have forborne you half

a year, and given you and Gawaine free way. It is much against my will

to fight with any of your blood, but since he accuses me of treason I am

driven to it like a beast brought to bay."

"If you dare do battle," cried Gawaine, "leave your babbling and come

out. Nothing will give deeper joy to my heart, for I have waited long

for this hour."

At this Lancelot mounted and rode out, and a host of knights followed

him from the city, while from the king's army a throng of knights

pressed to the front. But covenant was made that none should come near

the two warriors till one was dead or had yielded, and the knights drew

back, leaving a broad open space for the combatants.

Gawaine and Lancelot now rode far apart, and wheeled their horses till

they faced each other. Thus they stood in grim silence and energy till

the signal for the onset was given, when, like iron statues come to

life, they plunged their spurs in the flanks of their chargers and

dashed at furious speed across the plain. A minute passed, and they met

in the middle with a shock like thunder, but the knights were so strong

and their spears so great, that the horses could not endure the buffets,

and fell to the earth.

In a moment both knights had leaped clear of their saddles, drawn their

swords, and brought their shields before them. And now began a fierce

and terrible affray, for they stood and hewed at each other with might

and main, till blood burst in many places through the joints of their

armor.

But Gawaine had a gift that a holy man had given him, that every day in

the year, from nine o'clock till noon, his strength should increase till

it became threefold. And he took good care to fight all his battles

during these hours, whereby he gained great honor.

None knew of this gift but King Arthur, and as Lancelot felt the

strength of his antagonist constantly increasing, he wondered greatly,

and began to fear that he would be overcome. It seemed to him that he

had a fiend, and no earthly man, before him, and for three hours he

traced and traversed, and covered himself with his shield, scarcely able

to stand against the brunt of Gawaine's mighty blows. At this all men

marvelled, for never before had they beheld Lancelot so sorely driven to

defence.

But when the hour of noon had passed, the magic might of Gawaine

suddenly left him, and he had now only his own strength. This Lancelot

felt, and he drew himself up and pressed on his foe, saying,--

"You have had your day, Gawaine; now it is my turn. Defend yourself, for

I have many a grievous buffet to repay."

Then he redoubled his strokes, and at length gave Gawaine such a blow on

the helmet that he fell to the earth. Lancelot now withdrew a step.

"Why do you withdraw?" cried Gawaine, bitterly. "Turn, thou traitor, and

slay me; for if I recover you shall fight with me again."

"It is not my way, Sir Gawaine, to strike a fallen knight. When you

want to fight again you shall not find me lacking."

Then he turned and went with his knights into the city, while Gawaine

was borne from the field to one of the king's pavilions, where leeches

were brought to attend him.

"Alas!" said the king, "that ever this unhappy war began, for Sir

Lancelot ever forbeareth me, and my kin also, and that is well seen in

his sparing my nephew Gawaine this day."

Then Arthur fell sick from sorrow for the hurt of his nephew and regret

for the war. The siege was kept up, but with little energy, and both

sides rested from their toils.

Three weeks passed before Gawaine regained his strength; but as soon as

he was able to ride he armed again, mounted his horse, and rode to the

gate of Benwick, where he loudly repeated his challenge to Lancelot as a

traitor and recreant knight.

"You got the best of me by mischance at our last battle," he said, "but

if you dare come into the field this day I will make amends, and lay you

as low as you laid me."

"Defend me from such a fate," said Lancelot, "for if you should get me

into such a strait my days were done. But since you in this unknightly

fashion charge me with treason, I warrant you shall have both hands full

before you gain your end."

Then Lancelot armed and rode out, and the battle began as before, with a

circle of armed knights surrounding. But in this onset Gawaine's spear

broke into a hundred pieces in his hand, while Lancelot struck him with

such might that his horse's feet were raised, and horse and rider

toppled to the earth.

"Alight, traitor knight!" cried Gawaine, drawing his sword. "If a horse

has failed me, think not that a king and queen's son shall fail thee."

Then Lancelot sprang to the ground and the battle went on as before,

Gawaine's strength increasing hour by hour. But Lancelot, feeling this,

warily kept his strength and his wind, keeping under cover of his

shield, and tracing and traversing back and forth, to break the strength

and courage of his foe.

As for Gawaine, he put forth all his might and power to destroy

Lancelot, and for three hours pressed him so fiercely that he could

barely defend himself. But when noon passed, and Lancelot felt Gawaine's

strength again decline, he said,--

"I have proved you twice, Sir Gawaine. By this magic trick of your

strength increasing you have deceived many a valiant knight. You have

done your worst; now you shall see of what metal I am made."

Then he attacked him fiercely, and Gawaine defended himself with all his

power; but at length there fell such a heavy blow on his helmet and on

the old wound, that he sank to the earth in a swoon. When he came to

himself again, he struck feebly at Lancelot as he lay, and cried

spitefully,--

"Thou false traitor, I am not yet slain. Come near me, and do this

battle to the uttermost."

"I shall do no more than I have done," said Lancelot. "When I see you on

your feet again I shall stand ready to fight you to the bitter end. But

to smite a wounded and prostrate man!--God defend me from such a shame."

And he turned and went towards the city, while Gawaine with spiteful

malice called him traitor, and vowed he would never cease to fight with

him till one of them was dead.

A month now passed away, during which Gawaine lay sick of his wound. As

he slowly recovered, the old battle-hunger for Lancelot's blood returned

to his heart, and he impatiently awaited the day when he could again

take the field. But before this day arrived, news came from England that

put a sudden end to the war; tidings of such threatening aspect that

King Arthur was forced to return in all haste to his own realm.

CHAPTER V.

THE STING OF THE VIPER.

Disastrous, indeed, were the news from England. King Arthur had made the

fatal mistake of placing a villain and dastard in charge of his realm,

for Mordred had taken advantage of his absence to turn traitor, and seek

to seize the crown and sceptre of England as his own.

News moved but slowly from over seas in those days, and Mordred, with

treasonable craft, had letters written as though they came from abroad,

which said that King Arthur had been slain in battle with Sir Lancelot.

Having spread this lie far and wide, he called the lords together to

London in parliament, and so managed that they voted him king. Then he

was crowned at Canterbury, and held a feast for fifteen days, after

which he went to Winchester, where Guenever was, and publicly declared

that he would wed his uncle's widow.

When word of this came to Guenever she grew heavy at heart, for she

hated the traitor to her soul's depth. But she was in his power, and was

forced to hide her secret hate. She therefore seemed to consent to his

will, and desired permission to go to London, where she might buy all

things that were necessary for the wedding. She spoke so fairly that he

trusted her, and gave her leave to make the journey.

But no sooner had she reached London than she took possession of the

Tower, and with all haste supplied it with provisions and garrisoned it

with men, and so held it as a fortress, many knights holding with her

against the usurper.

Mordred soon learned that he had been beguiled by the queen, and, moved

to fury, he hastened to London, where he besieged the Tower, assailing

it vigorously with great engines of war. But Guenever held out stoutly

against him, and neither by fair speech nor foul could he induce her to

trust herself into his hands again.

[Illustration: THE TOWER OF LONDON.]

There now came to Mordred the bishop of Canterbury, who said,--

"Sir, what would you do? Would you displease God and shame knighthood

by wedding the wife of your uncle, who has been to you as a father?

Cease this vile purpose, I command you, or I shall curse you with book,

and bell, and candle, and bring upon your head the vengeance of the

church."

"Do your worst, sir priest," said Mordred, angrily. "I defy you."

"I shall do what I ought; be sure of that. You noise about that the lord

Arthur is slain, no word of which I believe. You seek with a lie to make

mischief in this land. Beware, lest your vile work recoil upon

yourself."

"Peace, thou false priest," cried Mordred. "Chafe me no more, or I shall

order that thy head be stricken off."

Finding that words were useless, the bishop departed, and, as he had

threatened, laid the curse of the church on Mordred. Roused to rage by

this, the usurper sought him to slay him, and he fled in all haste to

Glastonbury, where he took refuge as a hermit in a chapel. But well he

knew that war was at hand, and that the rightful king would soon strike

for the throne.

Despite the anathema of the church, Mordred continued his efforts to get

Guenever into his power; but she held firmly to the Tower, repelling all

his assaults, and declaring openly that she would rather kill herself

than marry such a wretch. Soon afterwards he was forced to raise the

siege, for word came to him by secret messengers that Arthur had heard

of his treason, and was coming home with his whole host to revenge

himself on the usurper of his crown.

When Mordred heard this he made strenuous efforts to gather a large

army, and many lords joined him with their people, saying that with

Arthur there had been nothing but war and strife, but that with Mordred

they hoped for peace and a quiet life. Thus was evil said of the good

King Arthur when he was away from the land, and that by many who owed to

him their honors and estates. Mordred was thus quickly able to draw with

a great host to Dover, where he had heard that Arthur would land, for he

hoped to defeat and slay him before he could get firm footing on

England's soil.

Not long had he been there when a great fleet of ships, galleys, and

carracks appeared upon the sea, bearing the king's army back to their

native realm. On the beach stood Mordred's host, drawn up to prevent the

landing of the king's army. As the boats came to the shore, laden with

noble men-of-arms, a fierce struggle ensued, in which many a knight was

slain, while full many a bold baron was laid low on both sides. But so

courageous was the king, and so fierce the onset of his knights, that

the opposing host could not hinder the landing of his army. And when

they had gained a footing on the land, they set on Mordred with such

fury that he and all his host were driven back and forced to fly,

leaving Arthur master of the field.

After the battle, the king ordered that the dead should be buried and

the wounded cared for. Among the latter Sir Gawaine was found lying in a

great boat, where he had been felled with a deadly wound in the bitter

strife. On hearing this direful news, Arthur hastened to him and took

him in his arms, with great show of grief and pain.

"In you and in Lancelot I had my highest joy," moaned the king. "Now I

have lost you both, and all my earthly happiness is gone."

"My death is at hand," said Gawaine, "and I owe it all to my own hate

and bitterness for I am smitten on the old wound that Lancelot gave me,

and feel that I must die. Had he but been with you this unhappy war

would never have begun. Of all this I am the cause, and have but

received my deserts. Therefore I pray you, dear uncle, let me have

paper, pen, and ink, that I may write to Sir Lancelot with my own hand."

These were brought him, and Gawaine wrote a moving and tender letter to

Lancelot, blaming himself severely for his hardness of heart.

In this wise it ran,--

"Unto Sir Lancelot, flower of all noble knights, I, Sir Gawaine, son of

King Lot of Orkney, and sister's son unto the noble King Arthur, send

greeting; and also these sad tidings, that on the tenth day of May I was

smitten on the old wound which you gave me at Benwick, and thus through

this wound have I come to my death. And I would have all the world know

that I, Sir Gawaine, Knight of the Round Table, have met with death not

through your ill-will, but from my own seeking; therefore I beseech you

to come in all haste to this realm, to which you have heretofore done

such honor. I earnestly pray you, Sir Lancelot, for all the love that

ever was betwixt us, make no tarrying, but come over the sea in all

haste, that thou mayest with thy noble knights rescue that royal king

who made thee knight, for he is hard bested with a false traitor, my own

half-brother, Sir Mordred, who has had himself crowned king, and would

have wedded Queen Guenever had she not taken refuge in the Tower of

London. We put him to flight on our landing, on the tenth day of May,

but he still holds against us with a great host. Therefore, I pray you

to come, for I am within two hours of my death; and I beg that you will

visit my tomb, and pray some prayer, more or less, for my soul."

When Sir Gawaine had finished this letter he wept bitter tears of sorrow

and remorse, and Arthur wept beside him till they both swooned, the one

from grief, the other from pain. When they recovered, the king had the

rites of the church administered to the dying knight, who then prayed

him to send in haste for Lancelot, and to cherish him above all other

knights, as his best friend and ally.

Afterwards, at the hour of noon, Gawaine yielded up his spirit. And the

king had him interred in Dover castle, where men to this day may see his

skull, with the wound thereon that Lancelot gave him in battle.

Word was now brought to King Arthur that Mordred had pitched a new camp

on Barham Down. Thither in all haste he led his army, and there a second

great battle was fought, with much loss on both sides. But at the end

Arthur's party stood best, and Mordred fled, with all his host, to

Canterbury.

This second victory changed the feeling of the country, and many people

who had held aloof joined the king's army, saying that Mordred was a

traitor and usurper. When the dead had been buried and the wounded cared

for, Arthur marched with his host to the sea-shore, westward towards

Salisbury. Here a challenge passed between him and Mordred, in which

they agreed to meet on a down beside Salisbury, on the day after Trinity

Sunday, and there fight out their quarrel.

Mordred now made haste to recruit his army, raising many men about

London, for the people of that section of the country held largely with

him, and particularly those who were friendly to Lancelot. When the time

fixed came near, the two armies drew together and camped on Salisbury

Down.

And so the days passed till came the night of Trinity Sunday, when the

king dreamed a strange dream, for it seemed to him that he sat in a

chair that was fastened to a wheel, and was covered with the richest

cloth of gold that could be made. But far beneath him he beheld a

hideous black pool, in which were all manner of serpents, and vile

worms, foul and horrible. Suddenly the wheel seemed to turn, and he fell

among the serpents, which seized upon his limbs.

Awakening in fright, he loudly cried, "Help!" and knights and squires

came crowding in alarm into his chamber; but he was so amazed that he

knew not where he was nor what he said.

Then he fell again into a half slumber, in which Gawaine seemed to come

to him attended by a number of fair ladies.

"Fair nephew," asked the king, "who are these ladies?"

"They are those for whom I did battle during my life," answered Gawaine.

"God has sent them and me to warn you of your coming death, for if you

fight with Mordred to-morrow as you have agreed, you will both be slain,

and most of your people. Therefore I am here to warn you not to fight

to-morrow, but to treat with the traitor, and make him large and fair

promises, so as to gain a month's delay. Within that time Lancelot and

his knights will come, and Mordred the usurper cannot hold against you

both."

This said, Gawaine and the ladies vanished. Then Arthur waked, and sent

messengers in haste to bring his lords and bishops to council. When they

had come he told them his dream, and they counselled him by all means to

be guided by it. Lucan the butler, and his brother Sir Bevidere, with

two bishops, were therefore sent to treat with Mordred, and make him

large promises for a month's truce.

The commissioners sought Mordred's camp and held a long conference with

him. At the end he agreed to meet King Arthur on the plain between the

hosts, each to bring but fourteen persons with him, and there consult on

the treaty.

"I am glad that this is accomplished," said the king, when word of the

compact was brought him.

But when he was ready to start for the place of conference, with the

fourteen chosen men, he said to his knights,--

"Be wary and watchful, for I trust not Mordred. If you see any sword

drawn, come fiercely forward, and slay the villain and his guard."

Mordred gave the same warning to his lords, for he had equal mistrust of

Arthur, whom he feared and doubted.

The two leaders, with their chosen followers, now advanced and met

between the hosts. But by a fatal chance, as the king and his opponent

were in consultation, an adder came from a heath bush and stung a knight

on the foot. Feeling the wound he drew his sword in thoughtless haste to

kill the venomous serpent. But the instant the hosts on both sides saw

that sword flash in the air all was uproar and tumult. On both sides

trumpets and horns were blown, harness rattled and clanked, and the

flash of spear-heads and sword-blades gleamed in the sunlight, while

like two mighty waves of war the great hosts broke from their stations

and rushed together across the plain.

Then Arthur sprang to his horse, exclaiming, "Alas! this unhappy day!"

and rode to his party; and Mordred did likewise.

No hand nor voice could stay the advancing hosts, and in a moment there

began the most doleful battle ever seen in Christian land. For there was

rushing and riding, foining and striking, and deadly clamor, and fearful

strife. Many a grim word was there spoken, and many a deadly stroke

dealt. Many times King Arthur rode through Mordred's host, and knightly

were the deeds of his hands. And Mordred fought with knightly valor and

zeal.

Thus went on the deadly fray all day long, without pause or stint, till

noble knights lay like fallen leaves upon the bloody ground. And when

nightfall was at hand they still fought with desperate valor, though by

that time full a hundred thousand men lay dead upon the down.

Then the heart of Arthur grew full of warlike fury, to see so many of

his people slain. And when the sun was near its setting, he leaned upon

his crimson sword, and looked about him with eyes that seemed to weep

blood. For of all his mighty host of knights but two remained alive, Sir

Lucan the butler, and his brother Sir Bevidere; and both of these were

sorely wounded.

"God's mercy!" cried the king, "where are all my noble knights? Alas!

that I have lived to see this doleful day! Now, indeed, am I come to my

end. But would to God I knew where to find that traitor, Mordred, who

has caused all this mischief."

As he spoke, his eyes fell on Mordred, who stood leaning upon his sword

amid a great heap of slain, for his host had been slaughtered to a man.

"Give me my spear," cried Arthur, wrathfully, to Sir Lucan. "Yonder

stands the traitor who has wrought this dire woe."

"Let him be," said Lucan. "He is unhappy enough. Remember, my good lord,

your last night's dream, and what the spirit of Sir Gawaine told you.

For God's sake make an end of this fray. Blessed be God, we have won the

field; for here are three of us alive, while Mordred stands alone among

his dead. If you leave off now, the wicked day of destiny will pass and

life remain to you. Your time for revenge will come hereafter."

"Betide me life, betide me death," cried the king, "this fray must end

here. Now that I see him yonder alone, he shall never escape my hands.

One or both of us shall die."

"Then God speed the just cause," said Bevidere.

With no word more Arthur took his spear in both hands, and ran furiously

at Mordred, crying,--

"Traitor, now has thy day of death come!"

When Mordred heard him, he raised his dripping sword and ran to meet the

king. Thus they met in mid-field, and King Arthur smote Mordred under

the shield, the spear piercing his body more than a fathom.

Mordred felt that he had his death-wound, but with a last impulse of

fury in his felon soul he thrust himself, with all his strength, up to

the bur of King Arthur's spear. Then wielding his sword with both hands,

he struck the king so dread a blow on the side of the head that the

trenchant blade cut through the helmet and deep into the skull.

With this last and fatal stroke Mordred fell stark dead to the ground.

And Arthur sank in a swoon to the earth, where he lay like one dead.

Thus sadly and direfully ended that dreadful war, with which came to a

close the flower of the days of chivalry, and the glorious and

never-to-be equalled fellowship of the Round Table, with all the mighty

deeds of prowess and marvels of adventure that to it belonged. For of

those noble knights, except Sir Lancelot and his kindred, only two

lived, Sir Lucan the butler, and Sir Bevidere his brother, and of these

two Sir Lucan was wounded unto death; and with them the illustrious King

Arthur, whose chivalrous soul had so long sustained this noble order of

knighthood, lay bleeding piteously upon that direful field of blood.

Sir Lucan and Bevidere, with bitter tears of sorrow, lifted their

helpless king between them, and with great labor led him from that place

of slaughter till they reached a small chapel near the sea-shore. Here,

as the night drew on, the sound of many voices came to them, as if the

dead had risen and were astir on the blood-stained field.

"What noise is this, Sir Lucan?" said the king. "Go, gentle friend, and

tell me what it means."

Lucan went, and by the moonlight saw a throng of pillagers, who robbed

the dead bodies of money and jewels, killing for their riches those

knights who were not quite dead. When he brought this news back to

Arthur, the king's sad heart came near to breaking.

"Alas! Lancelot," he said, "how have I missed you this day. Alas! that I

ever turned against you, for had you been here this fatal end could

never have been, nor those noble warriors left to be the prey of the

wolves and jackals of the battle-field. Sorely have I erred and sadly

have I been repaid for my error. But now, alas, it is too late for

regret or amendment, for the fellowship of the Round Table is at an end,

and Arthur the king shall reign no more."

CHAPTER VI.

THE PASSING OF ARTHUR.

When morning dawned, after that day of fate, Lucan and Bevidere took up

the king between them, and sought to bear him to the sea-shore, as he

bade them do. But in the lifting the king swooned, and Lucan fell

prostrate, the blood gushing anew from his wound.

Arthur lay long like one dead, and when he came to himself again he saw

Lucan lifeless at his feet, with foam upon his lips, and the ground

around him deeply stained with his blood.

"Alas! this is a heavy sight to see," he said. "He sought to help me

when he stood most in need of help. He would not complain though his

heart broke, and has given his life for mine. May Jesus have mercy on

his soul."

Bevidere stood beside him, weeping bitterly for the death of his

brother.

"Weep and mourn no more," said the king. "It will not now avail. Could I

live, the death of Sir Lucan would grieve me evermore. But my time goeth

fast, and there is that to do for which but few moments remain."

Then he closed his eyes for a time, like one who sees visions; and when

he looked again there was that in his face which Bevidere could not

fathom and his eyes were deep with meaning unrevealed.

"Now, my lord Bevidere," said the king, "the end is at hand. Take thou

my good sword Excalibur, and go with it to yonder water-side. When thou

comest there, I charge thee throw it as far as thou canst into the

water; then come again and tell me what thing thou seest."

"Trust me, my lord and king, your command shall be obeyed," said

Bevidere.

So he took the sword and departed to the water-side. But as his eyes

fell upon the noble weapon, whose pommel and haft were all of precious

stones, a feeling of greed came upon him and he said to himself,--

"If I throw this rich sword into the water, no good can come of it, but

only harm and loss. Had I not better keep it for myself?"

Moved by this thought, he hid Excalibur under a tree, and returned to

the king, whom he told that he had thrown the sword into the water.

"What saw you there?" asked the king.

"Sir, I saw nothing but the rippling waves."

"Then you speak untruly," said the king. "You have not thrown the sword

as I bade you. Go again, and obey my command, as you are to me dear and

true. Spare not, but throw it in afar."

Bevidere thereupon went again, and took the sword in his hand. But the

rich jewels so glittered in the sun that his greed came back more

strongly than before, and he deemed it a sin to throw into the sea that

noble blade. So he hid the sword again, and returned to the king with

his former tale.

"What sawest thou there?" asked the king.

"Sir, I saw nothing but the waves that broke on the beach, and heard

only the roar of the surf."

"Ah, traitor! false and untrue art thou!" cried the king. "Thou hast

betrayed me twice. Who would have thought that thou, whom I held dear,

and who art named a noble knight, would betray his king for the jewels

of a sword? Go again, for thy long delay puts me in a great jeopardy of

my life. If now you do not as I have bidden, beware of me hereafter, for

dead or alive I will have revenge upon you. Would you, Sir Bevidere, for

a shining blade, bring death and ruin to your king?"

Then Bevidere, heart-full of shame, hastened away, and took the sword,

turning his eyes manfully away from its jewelled hilt. Binding the

girdle around it, with all the might of his arm he hurled the blade far

out over the waves.

Then came a marvel. For as he followed the sword with his eyes, he saw a

hand and arm rise above the waves to meet the blade. The hand caught it

by the hilt, and brandished it thrice in the air, and then vanished with

it into the water.

Bevidere, much wondering, hurried back to the king, and told him what he

had seen.

"Now, Sir Bevidere, you have done as I bade you," said Arthur. "But much

precious time have you lost. Help me hence, in God's name, for I fear

that I have tarried over-long."

Then Bevidere took the king on his back and bore him to the water-side,

and lo! there he saw another strange thing.

For close by the shore lay a little barge, which he had not seen before,

and in it sat many fair ladies, among whom were three queens, who wore

black hoods, and wept with bitter sorrow when they saw King Arthur.

"Now help me into the barge," said the king.

This Sir Bevidere did as gently as he could. And the three queens

received the dying monarch with deep mourning, and had him laid between

them, with his head on the lap of her who sat in the centre.

"Alas! dear brother, why have you tarried so long from me?" said this

queen. "Much harm I fear from this sad wound."

And so they rowed from the land, while Bevidere stood on the shore sadly

watching the barge go from him.

"Ah, my lord Arthur," he cried, "what shall become of me, now that you

go from me and leave me here alone among my enemies?"

"Comfort thyself," said the king, "and do what thou mayest, for in me

can no man henceforth put his trust. I go into the vale of Avilion, to a

happy summer island far over the sea, where I shall be healed of my

grievous wound. But when I shall come again no voice may tell. Mayhap I

shall never come, but dwell forever in that sunny vale. If you never

hear more of me, pray for my soul."

Then again the queens and the ladies wept and moaned, and the barge

moved swiftly over the long waves and afar to sea, while Bevidere stood

and watched it till it became a black speck on the waters. Then it

vanished and was seen no more, and the lonely watcher cast himself upon

the beach, weeping like one who has lost all life's happiness.

But when night came near he turned and went wearily away, heavy with the

weight of death that lay upon his soul, for he alone remained of

yesterday's mighty hosts. All that night he journeyed through a great

forest, and in the morning he found himself between two hoary cliffs,

with a chapel and a hermitage in the glen that lay between.

In this hermitage he found the holy man who had been archbishop of

Canterbury, and who had come hither to escape Mordred's rage. With him

Bevidere stayed till he was cured of his wounds, and afterwards he put

on poor clothes, and served the hermit full lowly in fasting and

prayers.

But as for the three queens who went with Arthur to the island of

Avilion, the chronicles say that they were Morgan le Fay his sister, the

queen of Northgalis, and the queen of the Waste Lands. And with them was

Nimue, the lady of the lake. All were skilled in magic, but whither they

bore King Arthur, or where lies the magical isle of Avilion, or if he

shall come again, all this no man can say. These are of the secrets that

time alone can tell, and we only know that his coming is not yet.

CHAPTER VII.

THE DEATH OF LANCELOT AND GUENEVER.

When word was brought to Lancelot du Lake that Mordred had usurped the

throne of England, had besieged Guenever in the Tower of London, and had

sought to prevent Arthur from landing at Dover, his soul was moved to

wrath and sorrow. And still more was he moved by the letter of Sir

Gawaine, with its pitiful self-reproach and earnest wistfulness.

"Is it a time for mourning?" said Sir Bors to Lancelot. "My counsel is

that you cross at once to England, visit Gawaine's tomb, as he requests,

and then revenge my lord Arthur and my lady Guenever on this base

traitor, Mordred."

"It is well advised," said Lancelot. "To England we must go in all

haste."

Then ships and galleys were made ready with the greatest despatch, for

Lancelot and his host to pass over to England. And in good time he

landed at Dover, having with him seven kings and a mighty host of men.

But when he asked the people of Dover the news of the country, his heart

was filled with dismay to hear of the great battle on Salisbury Downs,

where a hundred thousand men had died in a day, and of the death of

Arthur the king.

"Alas!" said Lancelot, "this is the heaviest tidings that ever mortal

ears heard. Would that I had been advised in good time. Nothing now

remains to do. I have come too late. Fair sirs, I pray you to show me

the tomb of Sir Gawaine."

Then they brought him into the castle of Dover, and showed him the tomb.

Lancelot fell on his knees before it, and wept, and prayed heartily for

the soul of him that lay within. And that night he made a funeral feast,

to which all who came had flesh, fish, wine, and ale, and every man and

woman was given twelve pence. With his own hand he dealt them money in

a mourning gown; and ever he wept, and prayed for the soul of Sir

Gawaine.

In the morning, all the priests and clerks of the country round

gathered, at his request, and sang a requiem mass before the tomb. And

Lancelot offered a hundred pounds, and each of the seven kings forty

pounds, and a thousand knights offered one pound each, this going on

from morning till night. And Lancelot lay two nights on the tomb in

prayer and weeping.

On the third day he called about him the kings, dukes, earls, barons,

and knights of his train, and said to them,--

"My fair lords, I thank you all for coming into this country with me;

but we have come too late, and that I shall mourn while I live. But

since it is so, I shall myself ride and seek my lady Queen Guenever, for

men say that she has fled from London, and become a nun, and that she

lives in deep penance, and in fasting, prayers, and almsgiving, and is

sick almost unto death. Therefore, I pray you, await me here, and if I

come not again within fifteen days, then take ship and return to your

own country."

"Is it wise for you to ride in this realm?" said Sir Bors. "Few friends

will you find here now."

"Be that as it may," said Lancelot, "I shall go on my journey. Keep you

still here, for no man nor child shall go with me."

No boot was it to strive with him, and he departed and rode westerly, on

a seven or eight days' journey, asking of all people as he went. At last

he came to the nunnery where was Queen Guenever, who saw him as she

walked in the cloister, and swooned away, so that her ladies had work

enough to keep her from falling. When she could speak, she said,--

"Ye marvel why I am so held. Truly, it is for the sight of yonder

knight. Bid him come hither, I pray you."

And when Sir Lancelot had come, she said to him with sweet and sad

visage,--

"Sir Lancelot, through our love has all this happened, and through it my

noble lord has come to his death. As for me, I am in a way to get my

soul's health. Therefore, I pray you heartily, for all the love that

ever was between us, that you see me no more in the visage; but turn to

thy kingdom again, and keep well thy realm from war and wrack. So well

have I loved you that my heart will not serve me to see you, for through

you and me is the flower of kings and knights destroyed. Therefore, Sir

Lancelot, go to thy realm, and take there a wife, and live with her in

joy and bliss; and I beseech you heartily to pray to God for me, that I

may amend my mis-living."

"Nay, madam, I shall never take a wife," said Lancelot. "Never shall I

be false to you; but the same lot you have chosen that shall I choose."

"If you will do so, I pray that you may," said the queen. "Yet I cannot

believe but that you will turn to the world again."

"Madam," he earnestly replied, "in the quest of the Sangreal I would

have forsaken the world but for the service of your lord. If I had done

so then with all my heart, I had passed all the knights on the quest

except Galahad, my son. And had I now found you disposed to earthly

joys, I would have begged you to come into my realm. But since I find

you turned to heavenly hopes, I, too, shall take to penance, and pray

while my life lasts, if I can find any hermit, either gray or white, who

will receive me. Wherefore, madam, I pray you kiss me, and never more

shall my lips touch woman's."

"Nay," said the queen, "that shall I never do. But take you my blessing,

and leave me."

Then they parted. But hard of heart would he have been who had not wept

to see their grief; for there was lamentation as deep as though they had

been wounded with spears. The ladies bore the queen to her chamber, and

Lancelot took his horse and rode all that day and all that night in a

forest, weeping.

At last he became aware of a hermitage and a chapel that stood between

two cliffs, and then he heard a little bell ring to mass, so he rode

thither and alighted, and heard mass.

He that sang mass was the archbishop of Canterbury, and with him was Sir

Bevidere. After the mass they conversed together, and when Bevidere had

told all his lamentable tale, Lancelot's heart almost broke with sorrow.

He flung his arms abroad, crying,--

"Alas! who may trust this world?"

Then he kneeled, and prayed the bishop to shrive and absolve him,

beseeching that he might accept him as his brother in the faith. To this

the bishop gladly consented, and he put a religious habit on Lancelot,

who served God there night and day with prayers and fastings.

Meanwhile the army remained at Dover. But Lionel with fifteen lords rode

to London to seek Lancelot. There he was assailed by Mordred's friends,

and slain with many of his lords. Then Sir Bors bade the kings, with

their followers, to return to France. But he, with others of Lancelot's

kindred, set out to ride over all England in search of their lost

leader.

At length Bors came by chance to the chapel where Lancelot was. As he

rode by he heard the sound of a little bell that rang to mass, and

thereupon alighted and entered the chapel. But when he saw Lancelot and

Bevidere in hermits' clothing his surprise was great, and he prayed for

the privilege to put on the same suit. Afterwards other knights joined

them, so that there were seven in all.

There they remained in penance for six years, and afterwards Sir

Lancelot took the habit of a priest, and for a twelvemonth he sang mass.

But at length came a night when he had a vision that bade him to seek

Almesbury, where he would find Guenever dead. Thrice that night was the

vision repeated, and Lancelot rose before day and told the hermit of

what he had dreamed.

"It is from God," said the hermit. "See that you make ready, and disobey

not the warning."

So, in the early morn, Lancelot and his fellows set out on foot from

Glastonbury to Almesbury, which is little more than thirty miles. But

they were two days on the road, for they were weak and feeble with long

penance. And when they reached the nunnery they found that Guenever had

died but half an hour before.

The ladies told Lancelot that the queen had said,--

"Hither cometh Lancelot as fast as he may to fetch my corpse. But I

beseech Almighty God that I may never behold him again with my mortal

eyes."

This, said the ladies, was her prayer for two days, till she died. When

Lancelot looked upon her dead face he wept not greatly, but sighed. And

he said all the service for the dead himself, and in the morning he sang

mass.

Then was the corpse placed in a horse-bier, and so taken to Glastonbury

with a hundred torches ever burning about it, and Lancelot and his

fellows on foot beside it, singing and reading many a holy orison, and

burning frankincense about the corpse.

When the chapel had been reached, and services said by the hermit

archbishop, the queen's corpse was wrapped in cered cloth of Raines,

thirty-fold, and afterwards was put in a web of lead, and then in a

coffin of marble.

But when the corpse of her whom he had so long loved was put in the

earth, Lancelot swooned with grief, and lay long like one dead, till the

hermit came and aroused him, and said,--

"You are to blame for such unmeasured grief. You displease God thereby."

[Illustration: Copyright by F. Frith and Co. Ltd., London, England.

THE OLD KITCHEN OF GLASTONBURY ABBEY.]

"I trust not," Lancelot replied, "for my sorrow is too deep ever to

cease. When I remember how greatly I am to blame for the death of this

noble King Arthur and Queen Guenever, my heart sinks within me, and I

feel that I shall never know a moment's joy again."

Thereafter he sickened and pined away, for the bishop nor any of his

fellows could make him eat nor drink but very little, but day and night

he prayed, and wasted away, and ever lay grovelling on the tomb of the

queen.

So, within six weeks afterwards, Lancelot fell sick and lay in his bed.

Then he sent for the bishop and all his fellows, and said with sad

voice: "Sir Bishop, I pray you give me all the rites that belong to a

Christian man, for my end is at hand."

"This is but heaviness of your blood," replied the bishop. "You shall be

well amended, I hope, through God's grace, by to-morrow morning."

"In heaven, mayhap, but not on earth," said Lancelot. "So give me the

rites of the church, and after my death, I beg you to take my body to

Joyous Gard, for there I have vowed that I would be buried."

When they had heard this, and saw that he was indeed near his end, there

was such weeping and wringing of hands among his fellows that they could

hardly help the bishop in the holy offices of the church. But that

night, after the midnight hour, as the bishop lay asleep, he fell into

such a hearty laugh of joy that they all came to him in haste, and asked

him what ailed him.

"Why did you wake me?" he cried. "I was never in my life so happy and

merry."

"Wherefore?" asked Sir Bors.

"Truly, here was Sir Lancelot with me, with more angels than I ever saw

men together; and I saw the angels bear him to heaven, and the gates of

heaven opened to him."

"This is but the vexation of a dream," said Sir Bors. "Lancelot may yet

mend."

"Go to his bed," said the hermit, "and you shall find if my dream has

meaning."

This they hastened to do, and there lay Lancelot dead, but with a smile

on his lips, and the sweetest savor about him they ever had known.

Great was the grief that followed, for never earthly man was mourned as

was Lancelot. In the morning, after the bishop had made a requiem mass,

he and his fellows put the corpse of the noble knight into the same

horse-bier that had borne Guenever, and the queen's corpse with it, and

they were taken together to Joyous Gard, with such state and ceremony as

befitted those of royal blood.

And there all the services of the church were sung and read, while the

face of Lancelot lay open for people to see; for such was then the

custom of the land. When the services were over they were buried in one

tomb, for so great had been their love during life that all men said

they should not be divided in death.

During these events, Sir Constantine, the noble son of Sir Cador of

Cornwall, had been chosen king of England in Arthur's place, and a

worthy monarch he proved, ruling the realm worshipfully and long.

After Lancelot's death the new king sent for the bishop of Canterbury,

and restored him to his archbishopric; but Sir Bevidere remained a

hermit at Glastonbury to his life's end.

King Constantine also desired the kindred of Lancelot to remain in his

realm; but this they would not do, but returned to their own country.

Four of them, Sir Bors, Sir Hector, Sir Blamor, and Sir Bleoberis, went

to the Holy Land, where they fought long and stoutly against the

Saracens. And there they died upon a Good Friday, for God's sake.

And so ends the book of the life and death of King Arthur and his noble

Knights of the Round Table, who were an hundred and fifty when they were

all together. Let us pray that God was merciful to them all.

THE END.

* * * * *

Transcriber's Notes:

1. Minor punctuation errors have been corrected as follows;

Pg. 12 - Added missing punctuation "?" (might champion?)

Pg. 188 - Added missing punctuation "." (and he did all.)

Pg. 270 - Added missing endquote ("This I say,")

Pg. 316 - Removed extra enquote (what will you do?)

2. Spelling corrections based upon correct spelling of the word

elsewhere in the text:

Pg. 39 - "grevious" to "grievous" (4) (grievous cry that)

Pg. 50 - "you" to "your" ("Knight, hold your hand.")

Pg. 83 - "Dinaden" to "Dinadan" (92) (Gareth and Dinadan also)

Pg. 94 - "seaside" to "sea-side" (8) (castle by the sea-side,)

Pg. 127 - "law" to "lay" (as he lay there asleep)

Pg. 143 - "Badgemagus" to "Bagdemagus" (11) (said Bagdemagus)

Pg. 159 - "Percival" to "Percivale" (94) (Percivale had returned)

Pg. 166 - "dressel" to "dressed" (old man dressed in a)

Pg. 189 - "this" to "his" (to his surprise and joy)

Pg. 202 - "Nacien" to "Nancien" (3) (once by Nancien)

Pg. 220 - "seem" to "seen" (and seen what you highly)

Pg. 238 - "befel" to "befell" (5) (it befell that Nimue)

Pg. 281 - "Turquin" to "Turquine" (2) (by Sir Turquine?)

Pg. 289 - "Tristam's" to "Tristram's" (313) (and Tristram's sake)

Pg. 298 - "wil" to "will" (361) (if you will receive)

Pg. 299 - "dishoner" to "dishonor" (12) (naught to her dishonor.)

3. Words where both versions appear in this text and have been retained.

"threescore" (2) and "three-score"

"King Astlabor" (p. 87) and "King Astlobar" (p. 90)

4. Known English Archaic words used in this text:

"emprise" (prowess/daring)

"guerdon" (reward)

"halidom" (a thing considered holy)

"leman" (sweetheart)

"lief" (dear)

"woful" (3) (now woeful)

"villanous" (6) and villany (3) (now var. of villian* (10))

End of Project Gutenberg's Historic Tales, Vol 14 (of 15), by Charles Morris